


The Runaway

by StarkRavings



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian chases after her, F/M, Nesta needs her own adventure, Nesta runs away, POV Cassian (ACoTaR), POV Eris Vanserra, POV Feyre Archeron, POV Nesta Archeron, Quite Literally, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 97,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRavings/pseuds/StarkRavings
Summary: Nesta Archeron has earned herself banishment from Velaris and a one-way ticket to Illyria, courtesy of her little sister.  Tired of having her agency stripped away, Nesta decides the time has come to strike out on her own and runs from the Night Court without a backwards glance.Cassian has bided his time with Nesta on his High Lady's behalf.  When he realizes that Nesta had set off without him, Cassian decides to take matters into his own hands.  He is going to bring Nesta home.  He'll just have to find her first.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Eris Vanserra
Comments: 266
Kudos: 351





	1. The Runaway

**_"I have no regrets in my life, but this. I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. I promise."_ **

**_\- Cassian_ **

**_"I think I'd like to see what else is out there, what a woman might do with fortune and a good name."_ **

**_\- Nesta Archeron_ **

~~~~~~~

##### Nesta

_Velaris_

_The Night Court_

Nesta Archeron, newly exiled from her sister’s court and the city of Velrais, sat in her dilapidated apartment and tried to summon a tendril of anger for her current predicament. That morning Feyre had been kind enough to allow Nesta one day to put her affairs in order before shipping her off to Illyria. Nesta had spent the better part of the afternoon packing up her meager belongings. In the morning her bastard brother-in-law would arrive to winnow her away to some gods-damned war camp, effectively making her _someone else’s_ problem.

_No,_ Nesta thought weary, _not someone else. Him. Cassian._

Nesta stifled a sigh and knew she _should_ be grateful. If Rhysand had his way he would probably cast her out with only the clothes upon her back. Nesta had ignored and avoided her sisters time and time again. Apparently you could only snub the High Lady one too many times before finally invoking the ire of her sister’s husband. To be fair, using the Court’s treasury to bankroll her last few tavern bills probably didn’t help.

Still, Nesta was certain Cassian was the reason she was granted asylum outside of the city. He was the only remaining member of her sister’s court who stubbornly refused to leave Nesta alone. There were a few stretches of time where he would disappear, but in those days he was also gone from the Velaris entirely. If he wasn’t lurking in the shadows and being a general nuisance then Cassian was in Illyria, that much was certain. Elain once told her that he had a home there. Apparently that was now to be her home, too. 

Nesta idly wondered how much of his last trip was spent preparing for her arrival. She'd only half-listened as Feyre explained the recent plan to _save_ Nesta from herself. The preparations had apparently been set in motion some time ago. Someone else had decided her fate while Nesta was remained blissfully unaware. Just like old times. 

And, well, that was the problem now, wasn’t it? Sure, maybe isolating herself from her sisters wasn’t particularly the healthiest way to manage her feelings after the war. And Nesta could also admit that her drinking had gotten out of hand. She picked up an abandoned wine glass and rolled the stem between her thin fingers. 

It used to be easier, before the war, when rage was her constant companion. It kept her focused during those months when they shivered and starved, when their father sat idly by and let it all happened. Her anger kept her fueled during those lean days. It kept her sharp. But then Hybern walked into her life and ripped her world apart. Her father, once content to let her Nesta starve, died fighting to free her from the King of Hybern. Her righteous anger had finally burned itself out, leaving ashes in its wake. Nesta no longer felt anger. Nesta no longer felt much of anything. 

And… how could she even begin to explain all of this to Feyre and Elain? Nesta didn’t _understand_ how her sisters could laugh and smile. Didn't understand how they could move on with their lives like nothing had happened. Gods, even Nesta knew how terrible that sounded. And its not like she wanted to deny them any drop of happiness. The Mother knew they both deserved it. But even if her sisters could effortlessly move on from the war, Nesta could not. Every time she closed her eyes Nesta was haunted by memories of the war. The way Father’s eyes drained of light after the King of Hybern snapped his neck. The way Cassian used the last of his energy to brush his lips across hers while they waited for the finale deathblow. The loss _. The loss. The loss._

Nesta shuttered and dropped the wine glass, the sound of its shattering pulling her out of her reverie. No, Nesta _couldn’t_ explain any of this to her sisters. If they were able to free themselves from the horrors of the war then she needed to stay far away. The last thing Nesta wanted to do was somehow drag her sisters back to those dark days. Elain was no longer a lifeless shell; she had made a home for herself in this strange new world. And Nesta’s nightmares were still filled with the sounds of Feyre screams. No, the kindest thing Nesta could do for her family was to keep far, far away. Her sisters were better off without her. 

But her sweet, idiot sister couldn’t leave well enough alone. Feyre wasn’t content to let Nesta waste away in seclusion. No, Feyre had taken it upon herself to save her sibling, regardless of Nesta’s own feelings on the subject. History was repeating itself. Nesta would choose one course of action and her sister would choose another. The conclusion was always the same; Nesta’s agency would be stripped away. 

Nesta never really _chose_ anything in her life. She didn’t choose to live in that shit-hole village when they originally lost their fortune. She hated the decision to reintegrated back into high society once their wealth was restored, surrounded by the very people who turned their backs on the Archerons the first time. Nesta had planned to leave those vultures once Elain was safely wed. She certainly didn’t choose to become Fae. And now Nesta has no choice about the new direction her life was taking. Feyre had decided Nesta was to be sent off to Illyria so off to Illyria she would go. The story repeated itself. The cycle began anew. 

_Except,_ a strange new thought crossed her mind, _maybe this time_ I _can change the story._

Nesta blinked. The thought was new and rebellious.

Nesta always followed the path laid out before her. Yes, she was quick to anger and never held back complaints, but she always obeyed. Yet, the treacherous thought remained. _Could I choose my own path?_

A small thrill ran through her at the idea of disobeying _._ Could she simply walk away and take control of her own destiny? She could admit secluding herself in Velaris wasn’t working out. But she didn’t think Illyria was the right choice, either. It was a war camp. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of war. She didn’t think Cassian’s presence would be enough to sooth the rising dread she felt at immersing herself in an embodiment of war.

_Cassian…._

Nesta shook her head as if to snap out the thought. If she was doing this, if she was _really_ doing this, he was the last thing she needed to dwell on. If she thought too long and hard about Cassian she might lose her resolve. It was something she couldn’t risk, not when she finally mustered enough courage to leave her family behind. If Velaris wasn’t the right choice and if Illyria wasn’t the right choice than she had to go with the third option; Nesta was going to strike out on her own.

Steeling herself, Nesta rose up and stepped over the broken glass, stopping to pick up the battered suitcase. She slipped on her coat and took three steps towards the door before pausing. It wasn’t like she could just walk out of Velaris. Nesta never mastered winnowing. And she would need to enter the heart of the city to find passage out of the Night Court. There was a very slim chance that she would make it out undiscovered. What if Feyre or, Gods-forbid, Elain tracked her down and begged her to change her mind. They didn’t understand her position. Would they demand she explain the reasons why she suffered in silence? Could she look into their eyes and deny them?

No, it was better to disappear entirely. 

Nesta couldn’t winnow, but there _was_ another option. Her burgeoning excitement extinguish, quickly replaced by a foreboding new realization. Bile rose in her throat as she tried to quash her trepidation. She suppressed a shudder as a memory came rushing back.

Once, just after the war when she was feeling particularly homesick, Nesta had accidentally triggered her cauldron-given powers. 

It’s funny what minor details a person will remember when they find themselves in peculiar situations. She remembered that the sky was a cloudless blue, that a bird was singing. She remembered a weird, irreverent part of her brain noted that Elain would have been mortified if she knew about Nesta's predicament.

One minute she was bathing in the House of Wind, the next she was sitting naked among the ruined grounds of their former estate. She remembered how the soap suds trickled down her body into the cold, dirty water of their old reflecting pool; how the biting wind tore through her while she stayed frozen in place. For one brief second she feared she had finally gone mad. 

Then all she could focus on the need get _back._ Before she could even begin to properly assess her situation - before she could even get out of the dirty pool water – there was a blinding flash of silver and Nesta was back in her bath in Velaris. Nesta scrambled out of the tub and dropped onto the marble floor, desperate to be away from the water in case it sent her somewhere else. 

She never told anyone. 

What if they demanded a demonstration? What if they didn’t believe her? And, truth be told, the terror she felt during her unexpected journey was remarkably similar to her horror she felt inside the cauldron. And _that_ was something she never talked about. Not to Elain. Certainly not to Feyre. No, all she could do was hold the fear and pain deep inside her. 

Nesta refused to enter a bath for weeks afterwards, resorting to cleaning herself with a pitcher and ewer.

She started to drink excessively that night, the alcohol temporarily keeping her fears at bay. _It’s probably safe to say I never really stopped,_ she thought with a humourless laugh. If Nesta was going to change then _that also_ had to stop. Nesta drank to escape the reality of her Cauldron-given curse. The irony that she needed to call upon her powers to avoid her immediate predicament wasn’t lost on her.

That was the first time Nesta had transported. It was not the last. 

A few months ago some nameless brute followed Nesta out of a tavern and dragged her into an ally. Recalling Cassian’s haphazard defense lessons, Nesta delivered a swift kick to his groin. She didn’t disarm him completely, but stunned him long enough to slip his hold. He regained his equilibrium far too soon for her liking and quickly gave chase, incensed she wasn’t the easy target that he marked her for. He was a fast bastard and Nesta came to the sickening realization that she would need to use her powers to escape him.

She pictured the safety of her apartment in a frantic attempt to unlock her abilities. Nesta could feel the magic thrumming through her veins, unable to ignite. Willpower alone wasn’t enough to trigger the ability to shift locations. She was seconds from abandoning the chase to scream for help when she spotted at a small fountain out of the corner of her eye. She was submerged in her bath the first time she shifted. Was water the key?

Nesta didn’t have time for second guesses as she threw herself into the fountain, the skin of her palms scraping along the rough surface of the fountain floor. Now what? Did she need water on the _other_ side? Was that the missing piece? But where... the Sidra! Velaris’ famed river was on the opposite side of the city, well away from this bastard. 

There was a disorienting flash of silver and Nesta found herself sprawled out in shallow, slower moving waters of the Sidra, close to the muddy riverside. She crawled out and dropped onto a muddy patch of grass, gasping for air. She had made it! Somehow, she had made it. For the first time since turning, Nesta was thankful of her cauldron-given powers. It was still a curse, but, perhaps, a curse with advantages. She walked the rest of the way home in that sodden, torn dress. Nesta was bleeding and miserable, but she was alive. 

Perhaps her powers were not just a curse. Perhaps they were a key to her freedom. She had shifted halfway through the city with only a thought. And she shifted an even greater distance all those months ago, when she traveled into the Mortal Lands within the space of a heartbeat. 

Nesta always said she wanted to see the world. Perhaps today was the perfect day to start. 

With a lightness to her step that she hadn’t felt in ages, Nesta threw her bag onto the bed and began to re-arrange her clothing. She packed her outwear and then did her best to waterproof the shabby suitcase. _No need to walk around Prythian soaking wet if it could be helped._

When the repairs were completed to the best of her abilities Nesta began to fill the old, chipped bathtub with warm water. She spent those few minutes antagonizing over a note for her sisters, who were sure to discover her absence by morning. What would she tell them? Nesta hadn’t decided on her final destination. She only knew with pressing certainty that it was time to leave her family behind.

In the end she decided against leaving a note. She would send word once she was safely settled and away from the Inner Circle. Win or lose, Nesta was taking control of her own fate. 

And then, mere hours after her banishment from her sister’s court, Nesta left the city of starlight.

~~~~~~~

##### Cassian

_Velaris_

_The Night Court_

_Well, this day could have gone a lot fucking better._ Cassian thought darkly as he stalked his way past the towering hedges and flowering shrubbery that lined the winding trails of his brother’s estate. 

He was radiating enough quiet fury that any passing groundskeepers quickly turned away when they saw approach. Cassian ignore them all, gaze firmly fixed on the distant manor. He didn’t spare a glace at the immense gardens that surrounded him. He decided against flying to the manor in order to buy himself a few extra minutes before facing Rhysand. He knew the conversation would quickly turn to Windhaven’s newest resident and Cassian was in no rush to discuss Nesta with his High Lord.

Cauldron boil him. The earlier meeting was a fucking disaster. 

Cassian knew he should have gone in with lowered expectations. Nesta had been pushing herself away from her family for months now, choosing to languish in isolation rather than spend an extra minute in their presences. He knew Nesta would be angry at being forced out of her self-imposed seclusion, forced to stop hiding from the world around her. Cassian was prepared for her rage. He expected it. 

He wasn’t prepared for her dejected acceptance of the whole fucking mess. 

After Nesta was told she was moving to the Illyrian mountains she merely shrugged her too-thin shoulders and asked for enough time to pack her possessions. Nesta took the news without a hint of emotion, her lovely face unmoving. She acted as if this was a quick trip to the countryside, not the upheaval of her entire existence. After she was granted the small reprieve Nesta merely nodded to her sister and vanished in a swirl of skirts, never once acknowledging Cassian or anyone else in the room. 

At some point he hoped the sting of her rejection would lessen. It never did. 

Like he said: it was a whole fucking mess. 

All these months he had sat idly by while the female he cared about pulled further and further away. He deferred to his High Lady when she claimed that Nesta just needed time to heal. After all, Feyre herself had acted in a similar withdrawn manner when she first joined the Night Court. It hadn’t been an easy process but Feyre made it through her tribulations and emerged stronger than ever. All it took was patience, understanding and a little guidance from her mate. 

So then, shouldn’t it be the same for Nesta? Cassian had followed his High Lord and Lady’s strategy to every last detail. He had been patient, took care to never push her too far. Cassian understood that Nesta drank to self-medicate. Cassian was always readily available. The Gods above could testify how much he held his tongue when it came to the males. Still, nothing improved. Nesta only became further withdrawn, wilting away into the specter that stood before them earlier that day. He couldn’t remember the last time her eyes burn with fire. Gods above, he missed that passion. He would happily give up his wings just to see her eyes blaze in indignation once again.

Cassian was so lost in thought that he almost missed the shadows gathering around him. Almost.

“I know you’re there, brother.” He called out. 

The shadows swirled and appeared to solidify before Azriel strolled out of the darkness. The Shadowsinger tilted his head in greeting before joining Cassian. His brother hadn’t been directly involved with Nesta’s banishment. He knew Azriel had been spending his time on the continent, attempting to ferret out the traitorous moral Queens. Still, Cassian knew it was no coincidence that Azriel chose this day to return to Velaris. He could always rely on Azriel’s unyeilding support during times of trouble. 

“I assume you’re up to date on the whole Nesta situation?” he bit out, trying to keep the acidity out of his voice. None of this was Azriel’s fault. It wasn’t fair to take out his frustrations on the Spymaster. 

“I’ve heard enough.” his brother responded, saying so much with so little words. 

“He used his power on her.” he spat, stomach tightening in anger “He forced her down because she didn’t show enough deference. She’s nothing more than a frail slip of a female and Rhysand used his _powers_ on her.”

He could feel his temper steadily rise, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. Gods, he really needed to hit something. Preferably before he faced his High Lord. Azriel walked silently beside him for a few moments, the only sound was the gravel crunching underneath their feet. 

“He is our High Lord.” Azriel gently reminded him.

“And our High Lord can shove it up his ass! It was the wrong call, Az. He shouldn’t have done it. Not then. Not the minute before they cast her out of Velaris. Mother’s tits, you should have seen his face. He looked positively gleeful.” Cassian bit back any further comment before he said something he truly regretted. 

Azriel was quiet for a moment, probably considering the best way to sooth his irate friend. 

“This confrontation has been a long time coming. Rhysand’s loyalty will always be to his mate. None of this was done with the intention to hurt Nesta. It’s clear that Feyre can’t help her. Time and distance will be a balm to the sister’s relationship. But you, brother, are what _Nesta_ needs. Illyria is the perfect opportunity for her, despite the inauspicious beginnings.”

Cassian felt some of his anger dissipate at Azreil’s words. He was a male of few words but always spoke from his heart. Azriel didn’t speak pretty lies in order to avoid an ugly truth. He wouldn’t do that, not to him. Not when he spent the better part of last year watching Cassian suffer on the sidelines. 

The wary Illyrian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off his remaining frustration. This was the first time seeing Az in a month and many more would likely pass before they were reunited, hopefully under better conditions. Cassian didn’t want to spend their last few moments together ranting about things beyond his control. He decided to change the subject.

“Any luck tracking down those bitch Queens?” 

Azriel’s spies had been so far unable to track down a legitimate lead on the mortal Queens, the women seemingly two steps ahead of them. Az suspected the Queens had retained further help from someone in the fae world. Who that mysterious accomplice was, exactly, remained unseen. Still, the brothers agreed that the Archeron sisters were at threat as long as the Queens roamed freely. Azriel had taken over the hunt a little over a month ago. 

“None. Jurian has heard rumours of an alliance with someone on the continent. I’ve only stopped by to update Rhysand before heading back out” Az grimly reported.

Cassian knew the Spymaster was troubled by the whole situation. He wouldn’t rest until Elain was finally safe from the women responsible for fully dragging her into the war. 

“Will you have time to visit your favourite Archeron sister before you head back out?” Cassian prodded nonchalantly, switching topics.

If he didn’t know better he would swear Azriel’s cheeks reddened slightly. _Interesting._ Nothing gave Cassian as much easy joy as teasing the hell out of the venerable Spymaster. He was mentally running though a list of explicit suggestions on just how his brother could _entertain_ Elain when he spotted the female in question in the distance, sitting alone on a garden bench. Azriel’s features softened as his gaze landed young fae. 

“Oh! Hello Azriel, Cassian.”

Elain smiled weakly as she stood to greet them, wiping away an errant tear. She sniffled before attempting to school her face into a pleasant expression as she set her gaze on Azreil. _Mother’s tits_. Cassian suddenly felt like an intruder looking in on a private moment between the two. He was debating on the benefits of wordlessly abandoning Azriel to his would-be lover when she turned her attention to Cassian. 

“On you’re way to see Rhysand and Feyre?”

She phrased it like a question but let little doubt that she already knew the answer. Cassian wasn’t sure if that particular piece of knowledge stemmed from a vision or if she simply had a conversation with Cerridwen and Nuala. Both were equally likely but, truth be told, he still found the first option to be a little disconcerting. Elain was a sweetheart in every sense of the word but he had yet to become accustomed to her cauldron-given gift. 

Cassian also came to the sinking realization that he didn’t know just how informed Elain was of the whole situation with Nesta. Feyre assured him that Elain was aware of plans to relocate the eldest sister to Windhaven. He never had the courage to ask just how that particular conversation went down. Or if Elain had any further comments on the whole damn mess.Would she tell him if he was destined to fail Nesta? Would he want her to?

“We are on our way to meet with Rhys now. Would you like someone to accompany you back to the manor” Azriel offered hopefully.

_Oh,_ someone _should accompany Elain? Sure there, buddy._ Cassian thought with a mental snort. Azriel could be painfully obvious for someone who eked out his living in the shadows. Az sent him a pleading look and Cassian quickly straightened as he searched for a believable excuse in order to extract himself from the pair’s presence. 

“I can head back alone if you’d rather stay out in the gardens. It’s a beautiful day and I’m sure Elain would enjoy the company. She could show you the latest roses.” Cassian searched for justification. “They’re… uh… pretty”

_Nailed it._

Azriel turned to Elain with a hopeful expression. _The bastard had it bad._

Elain gave the shadowsinger a soft smile but her attention quickly returned to Cassian. 

“You’re on your way to meet with Feyre to discuss… Nesta?” she asked in that soft voice of hers.

_Uh oh._ What exactly was Elain trying to say? Does Elain know something? _Fuck dancing around the subject._ It was important to determine if the seer knew anything that could help Nesta. 

“Yes. You know of our plans for Nesta, right? You understand that I'll be there to support her? That I only want to help her?”

“I do.” she admitted softly. 

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a confused look. Elain wasn’t often taken to fits of confusion these days. She _seemed_ coherent but something was a little off. 

“I know that you would do _anything_ in your power to help her, Cassian.” she continued as she grasped his large hand within her own, “I know that you would be there for my sister if you had the chance”

He took a moment to consider her words, still not picking up on her meaning. 

“You do understand that she is coming with me to the Illyrian mountains?”

“No.” she smiled sadly at him, “No, she’s not.”

_Wait, what? Nesta's not coming?_

Panic flooded his senses as understanding finally dawned. Cassian wasted no more time as he launched into the sky in a blast of wings and fear. He pumped his wings relentlessly as he pushed himself towards Nesta’s apartment on the opposite side of the city. Too far. She was too far away. His red Siphons blazed as he poured all his frantic energy into the race to reach Nesta. By all rights her residence was a good fifteen minutes away. He had made the trip in almost half that. 

Cassian slammed into the earth, ignoring the citizens who scattered at his arrival. He threw open the front entrance and raced up the rickety wooden steps, bypassing a wide-eyed Urisk who was struggling with an oversized basket of soiled laundry. Cassian almost skidded past her front door in his rush to reach her side. 

“Nesta!” he yelled as he banged on the door. 

Cassian paused as he put an ear to her door. He couldn’t detect any movements from inside her apartment. There was no sound, just the rushing beat of his heart. _Fuck it._ He adjusted his weight and then slammed his shoulder into the door, the flimsy material shattering on impact. Cassian kicked aside a jagged piece of wood that hung haphazardly and stepped inside. 

“Nesta!” He called again, hoping against hope that he arrived in time to stop whatever foolishness she was plotting. 

She couldn’t be gone. _She couldn’t be gone._

His stomach dropped as he scanned the area. She wasn’t in the main room or kitchenette. He opened the bedroom door to find it was also vacant, bedclothes spilling from the mattress onto the floor. The armoire stood open, visibly empty. A quick sweep of the washroom reveled nothing other than an abandoned bath. He dipped his fingers into the water. Still warm. She must have left recently. 

Cassian wasn’t foolish enough to pretend that she had merely headed out for one last night on the town. Not when her luggage was also missing from its space above the wardrobe. Not after Elain’s warning. 

“Cass!”

His head snapped up as Azriel and Feyre entered the room, the latter white-faced and anxious. He walked over to meet them, separated a low-lying accent table covered in dirty dishes and empty wine bottles. 

“Is she gone?” asked his High Lady, worry clear in her voice. 

“It appears so.” he affirmed.

Feyre let out of shaky breath as she entered the bedroom to investigate the wardrobe, taking care to step over a broken wineglass. The armoire was nearly bare. Only a few threadbare articles of clothing remained. Feyre frowned as she ran a finger down a heather gray dress, feeling the worn fabric before tucking it back into the armoire and shutting the drawer. Feyre’s throat bobbed as she gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. Cassian hesitated in the doorway, torn between comforting his High Lady and leaving to sweep the perimeter. He was vaguely aware of Azriel exiting the apartment. 

“I didn’t mean to drive her away.” 

Her voice was so low Cassian was unsure if she meant to utter the thought out loud. Her blue-gray eyes – _so much like Nesta’s_ – turned to meet his. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. 

“Despite it all, I didn’t mean to drive her away. I wanted to help her. I wanted to…” she trailed off, ducking her head.

Cassian sat down beside her, the bed frame groaning under his added weight. 

“You did what you though was best, my Lady” he offered. 

“I don’t know what to _do,_ Cass. Rhysand is checking with superintendent to see if they saw her leave. He doesn’t think she went far. He thinks we still have time. But… what do I say when we find her? She _can’t_ do this on her own! We’ve been through this. I’ve sat back and waited but she didn’t get better. She’s only gotten worse. I though this was for the best. _I thought this was for the best._ ” Feyre’s voice broke as she dropped her head into her hands.

Cassian did not know how to respond. This was the very question that haunted him: how do you help someone who doesn’t want to be saved? Wordlessly he rubbed circles on Feyre’s back, a weak attempt to offer comfort. A sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Rhysand stood in the doorway, a quick jerk of his head belaying a demand for discussion. With a final pat on her back Cassian left Feyre to her grief. 

Rhysand had retreated to the middle of the main room still dressed in his High Lord’s attire. He was studying Nesta’s dwelling with a disapproving air. 

“She sure does have a habit of mucking things up, doesn’t she?” his brother said almost conversationally. 

Cassian felt himself sneer at the casual dig, his brother’s earlier performance rushing to the forefront of his mind. Rhysand’s eyes widened fractionally at Cassian’s sudden change of demeanor. Perhaps he wasn’t offering his High Lord the reverence his station was due, but he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care. 

“Have you called me here to trade insults on a traumatized female, brother? Or do you have something useful to offer?”

Rhysand rocked back on his heels, brows furrowing. 

“I’m going to ignore that tone, _brother._ That _traumatized female,_ which you so illustriously refer to, has once again struck a knife into the heart of my mate. So forgive me if her mere presence does not inspire great sentiment.”

“Rhysand, this isn’t the time.” Feyre pleaded as joined them. 

Rhysand’s expression softened when he took in his mate. He went to her and gathered her into his arms, running a comforting hand down her side. Cassian shifted his weight and flared his wings in annoyance. They really didn’t have time for this. 

“Did the superintendent know anything?” He prodded.

Rhysand shot him an irritated look. It was clear they would be readdressing this little spat at a later time, possibly with fists instead of words. That was fine by Cassian, but all of that could wait. 

“He didn’t.” Rhysand conceded, “Azriel is heading over to speak to the dock-master. We think it’s possible that Nesta booked passage on a boat out of Velaris.”

“It’s possible, but I doubt she even made it that far.”

Rhysand lifted a brow in question. 

“Her bathwater is still warm.” Cassian explained, “It’s a long walk down to the docks from here. The water would cool before she reached her destination.”

“She could have hired a coach” Feyre pointed out.

“Azriel knows to keep an eye out for her.” Rhys assured his mate, “Feyre darling, will you stay back here in case Nesta returns? There is still a chance this was this was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe she ran out to grab a few new books to bring along to Illyria.”

Feyre nodded but looked unconvinced.

“I can check with the carriage company if you’re willing to take point on the aerial search” Rhysand offered.

Cassian nodded tightly then headed towards the door. A small hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around and met Feyre’s gaze as she bit her lip.

“Promise me, Cass. Promise me that you’ll bring her back home?” Gods, his High Lady sounded young at that moment. 

“I will bring her back home, my Lady” Cassian offered solemnly. 

Without another word, he ducked out of the door and headed towards the rooftop. 

~

The search for Nesta lasted well into the night. Every fae they spoke with denied seeing the missing female. While it was possible that Nesta bribed them for their silence, Cassian thought it incredibly unlikely. Feyre had a good idea of her spending habits and it was doubtful Nesta squirreled away enough silver to tempt someone into lying to their High Lord. If Nesta left Velaris it would have been on foot. 

Still, the Illyrian warriors had scoured the city and outlying areas but could find no trace of her. He considered the probability that she was hidden away in the city, biding her time. In the morning they would begin questioning local innkeepers to see what they could unearth. 

In the meantime, he was taking a few hours to stretch out his wings in the House of Wind. The darkness had brought the aerial search to a halt. Cassian would rest now before heading back out at first light. He stared into the roaring fire as he sipped on his whiskey, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. He didn’t bother to look up from the flames when Az dropped down in a seat beside him. Cassian took a moment to brace himself before asking the question that weighed on his mind.

“Was Elain able to give you any more details?”

“No, not really. She's convinced that Nesta left the city, maybe even the Night Court”

Cassian winced. _If Nesta is already out of Velaris…_

“Cass, I know what she means to you. I know what it cost you to lose her”

Cassian stiffened. The Inner Circle never spoke of his personal connection to Nesta. Not to his face. He knew that once, before the war, his friends had been amused at the spectacle of their shared banter. They never bothered hide their curiosity and delight whenever Cassian found himself in Nesta’s orbit, unable to resist her pull. Gods, he used to love riling Nesta up. Loved it even more when she lobbed back a scathing rejoinder. But then Hybern came and Nesta just… stopped. She stopped with the teasing repartee. Stopped stealing glances when she thought he was distracted. Stopped rising to meet his desperate challenges. Nesta stopped. And his friends stopped, too. They choose instead to tiptoe around the pair on the rare times they were all together. They purposely turned away, uncomfortable to bare witness to something they had once relished. 

It was the first time in a long time that anyone had dared bring up the connection. But what Azriel said next took his breath away. 

“She’s your mate.”

And there it was: three simple words. Something his friends long since suspected. Something Cassian had long since _known._ He wanted to wait until the perfect opportunity before approaching Nesta. He wanted her to be safe from Hybern. He wanted to make sure this wonderful, terrifying news would be well received. To not be overshadowed by the looming war. But then Nesta… stopped. Nesta stopped. And Cassian waited too long. And now everything was a mess.

“Yes.” he breathed.

And there it was, just like that. It was in the open. It was real. Nesta was his mate. And he had lost her. Cassian clutched the armrests, the leather creaking under pressure. _Oh, Gods._

“Az, I’ve lost her. She’s gone for good”

“No. I don’t believe so.”

“Did Elain tell you otherwise?”

“Elain didn’t see anything else.” Azriel admitted, “But I know you, brother. I know you followed Rhysand’s lead when it came to Nesta’s recovery. It worked for Feyre so you held hope that it would eventually work for Nesta. But you secretly thought it was the wrong call. Your instincts were screaming at you the whole time, weren’t they?”

Cassian was barely breathing as he nodded his head in agreement. It was true. All of it was true. 

“It did not work because Nesta is _not_ like her sister. They are two very different females, so there should have been two different avenues of approach.” Azriel looked him straight in the eye. “You need to find her, brother. You need to find her and make things right. Trust your instincts when it comes to Nesta.”

Azriel was right. Cassian had ignored his instincts for too long. His fear of inadvertently harming Nesta had stayed his hand. He convinced himself that Feyre knew best while ignoring the voice in the back of his head that dared suggest otherwise. But it was Cassian, not Feyre, who always saw through Nesta’s defenses. He ignored her poisoned barbs and snide remarks, seeing them as the shields that they were. They were simply a method of protection. Nesta had been raised in a society where woman were coddled and defenseless. Nesta was never meant to be soft, never meant to be fragile. So she defied the expectations of her birth and horned her words and her wits into greatest weapons. She was a warrior, just like him. 

Nesta was his _mate._ He would no longer defer to his High Lord and Lady when it came to his mate. He would find her and he would claim her. He would make her understand that she did not have to face this alone, that they were in this together. 

“I need to leave Velaris. I’m going to find her, Az. I’m going to _claim_ her and then I’m going to bring her back home” he paused for a moment, thinking, “Will you give Rhysand a run down of where I’ve gone off to? Maybe not… _all_ the details, but let them know about the change of plans?”

Azriel rose up and clasped his brother in farewell. They would not meet again until Cassian returned to Velaris with his mate in tow. He would not rest until he held Nesta in his arms. Whatever her future, they would face it together. 

“I know better than to ask you to be careful” the Spymaster contended, “but do your best to stay out of trouble.”

Cassian shot Azriel a cocky grin.

“Fear not, brother. I’ll have her home before the week is out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic in a hot minute, so please drop a comment and let me know what you think. I'm currently 1 chapter ahead of my posting schedule but kudos or comments will only motivate me to write faster.
> 
> Special thanks to Romaismaria, who's spent the last month listening to my crazy plot theories and still decided to remain my friend.


	2. The Summit

~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

_Three years later_

_Adriata_

_The Summer Court_

As Nesta made her way through the winding city streets of Adriata, she couldn’t help but admire the view. The city was built upon a mountainous island in the middle of a sparkling turquoise bay. The climate was warmer than she was accustomed to, the shimmering heat responsible for the light sweat that coated her sun kissed skin. The air was hot and heavy despite being early spring. 

Nesta had spent the morning exploring various shops that lined the harbour front, admiring the various silks, exotic spices and other curiosities freshly arrived from the endless supply of merchant vessels. She was happy to lose herself among the hustle and bustle of the busy harbour front, largely ignored by the citizens going about their day. To them, Nesta was just another visitor from a neighbouring court, here to spend a little silver while on holiday. 

She took a moment to rest under the shade of a large oak tree, enjoying the cool breeze as it rolled in from the bay. She started to munch on an apple purchased for an exorbitant price from a younger fae manning a fruit stand. She’d taken one look at the girl’s threadbare clothes and tossed her another silver. The wide tooth grin received in return was payment enough. 

She rolled her shoulders and leaned back against the tree, lifting her gaze to the towering palace at the top of the city. Despite her position near the base of the island, Nesta could spot the banners raised to commemorate their High Lord’s return to the city. If the citizens noticed a marked increase of city guards patrolling the streets they doubtlessly wrote it off as extra security for their High Lord. After all, there was nothing to suggest that anything of note was currently underway in the distant palace. As far as the average citizen was concerned, Tarquin had simply returned for his annual visit. 

Nesta, however, had it on good authority that this was not the case.

Standing once again, she tossed the apple core into the water, wiped her hands off on her trousers and rejoined the rush of merchants and tourists as they hastened along the bustling walkway. She was in no particular hurry, happy to simply drift along and enjoy the warm caress of the midday sun. 

Nesta was in the midst of sidestepping a family hovering over a vendor’s stall when awareness crept into her senses. Intuition kicked in. She could feel a pair of eyes on her. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed nothing suspicious. Still, she couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that someone was watching her. Nesta kept her casual pace while subtlety assessing her surroundings. No one stood out. _Unless…_ Nesta stepped off the walkway and searched the sky for a wayward Illyrian warrior. 

Nothing. 

She is just a little spooked, that’s all. And besides, Cassian had the habit of occasionally popping up when she least expected it. Apparently completely cutting contact from every member of the Inner Circle hadn’t made it expressly clear that she was no longer interested in seeing him. Nesta wasn’t sure if Cassian followed her on Feyre’s instructions or if there was a more personal reason behind his search. 

She was never able to determine _how_ Cassian tracked her movements. Sometimes months would pass before he would make an appearance. Sometimes only a day or two went by. There was never a consistent pattern when it came to the dogged Illyrian.

He only wanted to talk at first. At least, she was pretty sure that was the case. Nesta never stayed around long enough to confirm either way. It’s not like she _purposely_ tried to avoid him back then. Nesta had been preoccupied at the time, trying to avoid Tamlin’s guards. They were _really_ unhappy to find her in their master’s personal library. Nesta was only going to borrow the grimoire for a couple of days but, upon reflection, she conceded that it could _appear_ like she was stealing it. So when faced with half a dozen angry guards and her sister’s ex-fiancé she did the reasonable thing. 

Nesta ran like hell. 

She had been tearing through the outlaying forest at her top speed, glancing over her shoulder to gauge her lead, when she quiet literally ran into Cassian. Nesta bounced off of the hulking warrior and landed on her ass. She was stunned to find him there. After all, it’s not like the Spring Court was the customary meeting spot for mislaid Illyrians. It was their first time laying eyes on each other in over half a year. 

“Nesta” he breathed out, as if he couldn’t believe they had reunited. 

He knelt down in front of her and Nesta became lost in those warm hazel eyes. His throat bobbed and half a dozen emotions flirted across his face. She forgot how big he was. She forgot how handsome he was. Gods, did he always _smell_ that good? He lifted a hand to caress her face when the approaching shouts of Tamlin’s guards snapped them out of their reverie. Her small lead was quickly diminishing; the guards were almost on top of her. So it wasn’t like they were _destined_ to have a great romantic reunion right then and there. Nesta did the first thing that came to mind. 

“Monster!” Nesta shrieked and pointed in the direction she was fleeing from.

It wasn’t a lie, not really. Tamlin had made a terrible first impression and it only went downhill from there. 

Righteous determination washed over his face as he rose to face this new threat. 

“Stay here, Sweetheart.” He ordered as he charged off, twin Illyrian blades in hand. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t her best idea. Nesta was fairly certain that Cassian held a grudge against Tamlin ever since the whole Hybern fiasco, so it could be argued that the resulting brawl wasn’t entirely her fault. Besides, Nesta _did_ remain motionless. At least she did until Talmin’s cry of pure rage echoed throughout the forest. _Cauldron save her_ , they were close. She scrambled over the forest floor and jumped into the first body of water she saw, which happened to be a disgusting scum-filled pond. 

So, really, everyone suffered that day. 

She had also lost the grimoire in her rush. You could argue that she was the biggest loser in that squabble. 

Her following run-ins with Cassian didn’t fair much better. Next was that business on the boarder of the Autumn Court. She had it on good authority that Cassian didn’t exactly mesh well with the ruling family. Nesta didn’t even push Cassian towards Eris Vanserra. It wasn’t fair that she took the blame. 

Nesta had been running up the rolling hills of the mountainside, gasping for air, when she tripped and gracelessly slid down ten feet or so. She was exhaustedly pushing herself back up when she spotted Eris a hundred yards away, hands raised in preparation to lob a bolt of his magic towards her. Before Nesta could move, before Nesta could _breath_ , Cassian landed in front of her in a blast of rage and fury. The sheer force of his power knocked her back down, the wind from his powerful wings sending dead foliage eddying around them.

“Stay behind me!” Cassian snapped, eyes locked on the male downhill. 

The High Lord of Autumn dropped his hands slightly, startled by the Illyrian’s unexpected arrival. Cassian took no time to launch himself at Eris with a wordless scream, forgoing his weapons and attempting to beat his opponent to death with his bare hands. Nesta sat bewildered as she watched Cassian attack a High Lord for the second time in the span of a month. She regained her equilibrium and took a step towards him.

“Cassian?” She called out, voice wavering in alarm, “Cassian, be careful!”

Cassian had managed to wrap a meaty arm around Eris’ neck, securing his adversary in place while he rapidly delivered three quick punches to his head. He dropped Eris and stalked his way back towards her.

“It’s over, Sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

Nesta froze _. Home? Home as in… Velaris_?

Eris, taking advantage of Cassian's distraction, scrambled up and launched himself onto Cassian’s back. Cassian fell to the ground and tumbled with Eris, both males sliding down the hill as they exchanged blows. Nesta stood there indecisively, watching them grapple for dominance. 

_Cassian wants to take me back to his home. Back to Velaris._ The one place she had been running from. _I can’t go back._

She took a step back, and then another. And then Nesta swirled around and bolted up the mountainside. She’d previously spotted a glacial-fed stream a little further east. Nesta sprinted there with all her might, knowing she had mere seconds before anyone noticed her disappearance. 

“Nesta!” Cassian roared.

She stumbled but kept going, risking a quick glace over her shoulder. Cassian was out of sight, still downhill and slightly to west if she were to judge by the sound of his voice. The crash of the underbrush was enough to warn her that he was on her trail. She breathed a sigh of relief when she made it the clear running waters. 

“Nesta! Nesta, wait!” He bellowed. 

If he took to the skies she was out of luck, a clear target in the open hillside. She would be able to shift before he could reach her, but not before giving away the secret to her disappearing act. And with Cassian on her trail she needed to hold all the cards close to her chest. Nesta splashed into the fast running stream, trying to ignore the freezing cold water that rushed past her shins. 

“Where are you? Nesta!”

Bracing herself with a grimace, Nesta lowered herself into the glacial water and shifted away from Cassian, doing her best to forget the pain in his voice as he pleaded for her return. 

To her complete and utter lack of surprise, any future encounters went quickly downhill from that point forward. 

The next few run-ins didn’t occur in a time of crisis, perceived or otherwise. No, she was simply minding her own business, exploring other cities or towns within Prythian. Nesta was out dining, or perusing a bookstore, or visiting a museum. One minute she was immersed in her surroundings, the next her attention drawn to the sound of his powerful wings. Nesta would run. Cassian would follow. Their game of chase would begin anew. So Nesta stayed alert when out in Prythian. She did her best to remain close to a water source so she could escape to freedom at any possible moment. It worked. Well, it worked so far. 

That Nesta constantly eluded him seemed to result in Cassian’s growing aggravation. His eyes no longer shone with hope whenever they met. No, hope had long since been replaced with frustration. His expression grew darker and darker on every meeting, furious that she’d rather avoid him entirely than return to Velaris. The past few times he even stopped trying to reason with her. He would simply lunge for Nesta, knowing his brute strength would overwhelm her, barring her from escape. Cassian had been training since before her grandmother’s grandmother walked the earth. Nesta knew her best odds remained in keeping her distance. 

It’s not that she thought Cassian would do anything to _hurt_ her. His first priority was Nestsa’s safety. He would always disarm anyone who dared to threatened her. Over the years everyone from City Guards to lowly gutter trash had fallen under Cassian’s wrath. She was safe with Cassian, at least physically.

The problem was Cassian wasn’t safe with _her_. 

No, more than a few things had changed since she originally fled from her sister’s Court. Some of those things were a threat to Nesta. And some of those threats had no qualms harming those she loved. Her family was a weakness that could be exploited, a tool to lure Nesta away. They would have no problem targeting her allies in order to draw Nesta out. 

And Nesta was sick of loved ones dying for her.

Her father’s last moments on this earth were spent trying to defend her, only to die for his troubles. The immediate aftermath and eventual fallout had almost killed her. It had taken years to recover. She couldn’t live through that again. She could accept Cassian’s anger if that meant keeping him alive. Nesta couldn’t picture a world where Cassian didn’t exist. She’d rather not try. So for now Nesta would remain vigilant, would keep far away from the Illyrian in order to keep him safe. And she would hope that one day he would forgive her. Still, the complicated mess that was her connection to Cassian could wait. She had more urgent matters at hand. Nesta gave her surroundings once last glance before turning her attention back to the distant palace. 

The people of Adriata had no idea their beloved city was currently hosting the leaders of Prythian. 

At his moment, way up in that palace, the seven High Lords of Prythian had secluded themselves away from the world. It had all been organized with the utmost secrecy. Orders had been enacted to ensure that the High Lord’ agenda could be discussed without outside influence. There had been months of advanced preparation. Every small detail had been carefully considered to ensure the gathering had total privacy and security. 

The members of the City Guard more prone to gossip had whispered theories that the tightened security was due to an overzealous Captain, eager to impress his newly returned High Lord. The majority of palace staff had been given the week off. Only a few trusted servants remained, little more than a skeleton crew avowed to secrecy. All had agreed to remain until the end of the Summit. Not one creature would exit the palace before the week was out. 

And that was fine with Nesta, because she was going to break _in_.

~~~~~~~

#### Feyre

_The Adriata Palace_

_The Summer Court_

_To say the Summit is going off track is a complete underestimate,_ Feyre thought with a sigh as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat for the third time that hour. They had been working steadily since dawn with only one break for midday meal, where the High Lords and Ladies retreated to their personal chambers for a short recess. That had been hours ago. There were too many large personalities to be contained that relatively small conference room. Hell, she didn’t think the entire palace was large enough. Too often the group would often lose sight of the agenda. Old wounds were reopened and the dialogue would run off topic. It felt as if they had been running in circles all day long with little progress to show for the effort. 

Feyre was also starving. She would kill for another slice of the warm fig bread she had been served at breakfast. But that was neither here nor there. 

Rhysand, seated at her side, shifted his attention to his wife.

_Are you feeling well, my Darling?_ He asked through their bond. 

Feyre gave him a tired smile and patted his thigh under the massive sea glass table. _Just wondering if Tamlin is ever going to arrive at his point. Do you think he would take the hint if I pitched this water glass at him?_

His mouth twitched in response as he returned his gaze to the High Lord of Spring, appearing enthralled by Tamlin’s words to anyone who bothered to glance his way. _I would be first in line to do so if I thought that would work, my love. But let’s not pretend like you successfully avoided my question. Are you uncomfortable?_

Feyre shifted once again as she rubbed her heavy belly. _I’m not in pain,_ she assured her worried mate, _but a long time has passed since I’ve felt truly comfortable. I’m so large that I barely fit into this seat and your son has been pressing on my bladder for the last twenty minutes._

_Hush, you’re as lovely as the first day I met you,_ Rhysand assured her and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, the small act helping to reinvigorate her lagging spirits. _And I’ll happily toss Tamlin into the bay myself if you need a break._

Feyre laughed. She could always trust her mate to lift her mood whenever she found herself tiring, which seems par for the course these days. The healers assured her the fatigue was to be expected during the last month of pregnancy but she felt good otherwise. Still, if Rhysand were to have his way she would be laid up in bed like an invalid. His protectiveness was sweet, if a little unnecessary. 

“Do you find this whole situation amusing, Feyre?” Tamlin’s sharp voice cut into her musing.

Feyre jerked her head up and realized everyone was staring. _Shit._

“Of course not.” she defended. “I was just thinking that we could all use a break. We’ve been sitting for hours now. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that I’ve been boring you. Yes, I can see how the affairs of the mortal Queens can be tiresome for you. After all, the Night Court is miles away from the Moral Lands, with your people safely tucked away from any direct threat the Queens may pose.”

Feyre squeezed Rhysand’s hand in warning when he growled at Tamlin. The icy diplomacy between their two Courts may have thawed in recent years, but one misplaced insult could easily set it all back to the days of Hybern. Besides, she didn’t need her mate’s assistance at handling the prickly male. 

“May I remind _you_ that Night was the first to quarrel with the human Queens. And besides, you damn well know just how personal the fight with the Queens is to me. You were there when they helped drag my sisters into the Cauldron.”

Tamlin’s claws shot out in either anger or frustration, but he kept any further snide remarks to himself. 

“Feyre does have a point,” offered Viviane, High Lady of Winter, “We could all benefit from a break. If we haven’t been able to find the Queens in the last four years then another thirty minutes shouldn’t matter.”

“Indeed. If Feyre needs a break then I’m more than happy to oblige. I would hate to run off one of the few High Ladies to grace us with her presence.” The High Lord of Day added with a conspiratorially wink.

Feyre grinned at Helion. He was a charming bastard, that much was certain. 

“Oh yes.” sneered Eris Vanserra, “Gods forbid we’re bereft of the High Lady of Night and all the knowledge she may possess. Who knows, an art class may be just the thing needed to tip the conflict to our favour.”

Feyre groaned internally, not bothering to caution Rhysand against a warning growl. Relations with the Autumn Court had definitely soured after Beron’s accidental death a couple of year’s prior. While she was glad they were no longer beholden to assist Eris in patricide, she wished relations between the two courts were on better terms. A stronger partnership would benefit commerce for both territories. She had thought Beron was the fae standing in way of harmony, but Eris proved even more difficult than his late father. 

“Eris, enough.” Tarquin snapped as he stood to survey the room “You only serve to prove Feyre’s point. Everybody is on edge right now and infighting will push us further away from our cause. Let’s break for an hour. After that I will have the kitchen bring up dinner. Perhaps we will find ourselves in a more amiable mood with a good meal in our bellies”

The High Lord of Summer’s comments were met with the sound of laughter and the shuffling of feet. The other Lords and Ladies were quick to make their exit, Eris included. Feyre carefully pushed herself up from the chair, her heavily pregnant stomach throwing off her balance. She groaned in pleasure as she was finally able to stretch out her sore back, delighting at the chance to finally massage a particularly nasty knot. 

“You know, Feyre Darling, it wasn’t too long ago that _I_ was responsible for drawing those sounds out from you” Rhys purred in her ear as he took her arm, the picture of a perfect gentleman that fooled absolutely no one at hand.

“It’s your fault that I’m in this position to begin with.” Feyre reminded him as he took her arm to lead her out of the room. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes when he slowed their pace. “Pregnancy doesn’t make me an invalid, you know.”

“Of course not, my love. It makes you a delight. I’m particularly fond of the way you wobble around the house. And of the way you balance a plate on your stomach when you curl up for a late night snack.”

“Hey!” she cried in mock indignation and jammed a finger into his side. Rhysand laughed and slung his arm around her, drawing her in close as they strolled out into the hallway. They were met with Thesan, High Lord of Dawn, and his husband Kapena.

“Eris has been a real treat to deal with today.” Thesan said by way a greeting, jerking his head towards the male in question. Eris stood a few feet away, conversing with Helion. He looked up at the sound of his name and shot them a glare before turning his back entirely. Helion gave her a knowing smile before returning his attention to the Autumn High Lord.

“We’re only helping the Queens at this rate.” Rhys muttered. “Too much time is wasted bickering among ourselves. We came to ratify a plan of attack against the mortal Queens, not to dredge up old slights.”

“Do you think the rumours are true? Do you think the Queens have a coven of witches at their disposal?” Thesan asked. Feyre suspected that was the real reason he stayed back. He wanted to get to the meat of the matter. 

“That’s what our Spymaster believes.” Feyre confirmed with a quick glance at Rhysand. 

The whole point of the summit was to share information about the mortal Queens. The women had been threatening Prythian for years now, with more and more troubling reports coming in from the continent. The addition of the witches to the Queen’s growing arsenal had been the final straw that broke the camels back, the driving force behind their meeting. Prythian could no longer ignore the threat that lay at her door. 

Witches were rumored to possess dark magic, wholly different from the natural magic that wove itself through Prythian. Feyre heard that a single witch had the ability to immobilize an entire legion of fae. If it was true that a whole _coven_ were at the Queen’s disposal… she shuddered to think of it. 

What they also struggled to determine was how, exactly, the Queens were able to secure the loyalty of the witches. They were notably independent creatures and thought themselves above humans. An allegiance between witches and the mortal world was incredibly unnatural. Rhysand thought an outsider of great influence must have brokered the unlikely alliance. But why would _that_ be the case? What could the human Queens offer as recompense? There were too many parties at play, too many unknown variables. 

And they had spent the better part of the week going in circles. Rhysand was right. They had to find a way to unite in defense of Prythian or risk losing it all. 

Thesan looked like he was about to press for further details when the sound of a disturbance drifted down the hallway. They looked over in time to witness a squadron of Royal Guards disappear into a passageway that led to a closed off section of the palace. A harried looking Tarquin closely followed. 

_Now that looks intriguing_ , Rhys told her over their bond. 

“What do you think that’s about?” Feyre questioned out loud, mindful of her companions. 

“Not a clue. Whatever it is, I’m sure Tarquin would prefer to keep it concealed.” Thesand said offhandedly as he made way to follow the disappearing Royal Guards, Kapena at his side.

“I’m think you’re right.” Rhysand agreed, voice thick with amusement “I’m sure he’d want guests to stay here, far away from any trouble.”

“Too bad we’re a nosy bunch.” Thesand called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the same passageway.

Rhysand huffed a laugh and turned Feyre. She held out a hand to stop him.

“Before you get any foolish ideas like asking me to wait behind, I’m perfectly able to defend myself.”

He arched a jet-black brow at her. “Darling, you’re hardly able to walk up a flight of stairs without becoming winded.”

She stuck out her tongue in a very un-High Lady like fashion and trailed after Thesand. She ignored Rhysand’s _woe-is-me_ sigh, fully aware he was as equally curious about the unraveling situation. He caught up to her within seconds, placing a protective hand on her lower back.

“Just promise me you’ll winnow out at the first sign of trouble. For the babe.”

And trouble, it seemed, wasn’t too hard to find. They had barely made it halfway down the corridor when she spotted Tarquin approaching. His crystal blues eyes locked on them and he hesitated momentary, a grimace crossing his handsome face so quickly she almost missed it. Tarquin took what she assumed to be a calming breath and made his way towards them. 

“What did you do now?” She whispered to Rhysand.

“At the moment? Nothing. Or, at least, nothing that would concern Tarquin.”

Before Feyre had the chance to ask Rhys what _that_ was supposed to mean, Tarquin had reached them and the moment was gone. She made a mental note to bring it up later and gave their host her full attention. 

“Tarquin, it looked like you had bit of excitement head down here. Anything we should be worried about?” Her mate asked in a causal tone. 

“I don’t know, Rhysand. Why don’t you tell me?” he responded acidly.

_Huh?_ She shot Rhysand a glance. His apparent confusion mirrored her own.

“We really don’t know what’s going on.” Feyre said defensively. Tarquin’s icy blue eyes locked on her, and she took half a step back. He was simmering with rage. Whatever had happened, he believed they were involved. 

“Oh, you have _no idea_ why you sister was caught lurking in a restricted area?”

_What?_ Now Feyre was absolutely confused. Elain wasn’t _in_ Adriata. She had elected to remain at home in the Night Court. The newlyweds had taken possession of their new home only a few weeks prior and she was busy setting up their household. Azriel would slip home every evening to see his wife, returning before dawn. Tarquin knew this, had given his blessing. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” She responded frostily “Elain isn’t here. She’s in Velaris. You know that”

“Not _that_ sister.”

Feyre’s whole world swayed as the air went rushing out of her. She was dimly aware Rhysand’s supporting hands at her side, propping her up in case she lost collapsed entirely. Did Tarquin mean… _Nesta?_

It was impossible, wasn’t it? Feyre hasn’t seen her eldest sister is over three years, had long given up hope of tracking her down. No one could find her. Not Rhys. Not Cassian. Even Elain refused to speak a word about their missing sister. Nesta had simply walked up and our of their lives entirely. 

They had been at odds for far too long. The pain she felt at Nesta’s absence never fully went away. It hung around like an old wound, festering just below the surface. Feyre would forgive Nesta everything, if only to embrace her one more time. Her family was stronger together. She wanted her sister back. 

But… there were rumours about her missing sister. Tamlin had once accused Nesta of stealing an old artifact from the Spring Court. Cassian confirmed she had been on the grounds at the time, but managed to slip away during the resulting melee. Gods, that whole scenario had been a nightmare to untangle. Feyre had vowed to throttle Nesta the next time she laid eyes on her. 

Nowadays she just wanted to hug her. 

And then there was Cassian. Her friend had never given up on his search for Nesta, had refused to accept her disappearance as the end to their story. Once, a while back, she’d ask Cassian why he refused to let Nesta go. He simply replied that he wouldn’t let her go without saying a finale goodbye. Feyre hadn’t mustered the courage to ask him about it since. And to think Nesta had finally appeared when he was still back home in Velaris. Fate could be unbearably cruel. 

Still, she couldn’t ignore the stories that circulated the first few months after Nesta’s disappearance. Couldn’t ignore the whispers that accused her sister of stealing from various great houses within Prythian. Feyre refused to believe it at first. Nesta may be many things, but she was never a thief. Yet Cassian had seen her near Rosehall with his with own eyes. It was too much of a coincident to be dismissed outright. 

Regardless, there hadn’t been new accusations for years now. She had hoped Nesta simply stopped walking whatever dark path she was heading down. Feyre tried to persuade herself that there was a simpler explanation for everything. Or, barring that, Nesta was simply trying to raise funds by burgling the various fae who would be least affected by the loss.

But it had been years since Feyre had heard of Nesta causing trouble. So why was did her sister chose to reappear here, during the summit, of all places? Like everything else about Nesta, none of this made sense. Feyre took a shuttering breath and leaned against Rhysand for support. 

“You didn’t know.” Tarquin mused as his face softened.

Feyre shook her head, her vision suddenly blurred by unshed tears.

“I’ll take you to her.” Was all he added.

~~~~~~~

#### Nesta

_The Adriata Palace_

_The Summer Court_

_Possibly near the Guest Wing, but also maybe not_

_It’s probably safe to say today is not going according to plan,_ Nesta thought with an ironic twist to her mouth. She shifted her position on the uncomfortable limestone bench. She’d been here for a while now and her ass was starting to fall asleep. 

Today had been her first time on palace grounds and Nesta had lost her bearings somewhere between the six and seventh floor. She was heading towards the guest wing - at least she _thought_ it was the guest wing – when a pair of loitering servants brought her trek to a standstill. She hoped to wait them out but was forced to slip down a small staircase in order to avoid detection from a pair of sentinels. It shouldn’t have been a huge setback. She intended to simply traverse the distance one floor below, find another stairway and then return to her original route. 

Except luck wasn’t with her today. Maybe she had overshot the corridor. Maybe the lingering servants had thrown off her internal clock. Whatever it was, Nesta had definitely not expected to meet a group of patrolling sentries in the middle of a tight, spiraling staircase that offered absolutely no chance at escape. 

“Oh, hello!” she offered cheerfully. 

Perhaps she could convince them she was a misplaced member of a High Lord’s entourage. Perhaps she could persuade them she was a harmless thing who wandered off by accident. Perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for her to be found in a restricted space with wet hair and a modified swimming costume. The Royal Guards immediately withdrew their short swords.

Perhaps not.

That was how Nesta found herself shackled to a bench within view of a dozen Royal Guards. Varian, their Captain, was quick to identify Nesta when he arrived shortly after. He barked an order to a curious servant to notify their High Lord of events as soon as Tarquin emerged from his meeting. Varian then turned his attention to his prisoner. 

“So, how’s Amren?” she asked conversationally.

Verian shot her a look and his hand fell to the scabbard at his side. _Point taken._ She thought it best to hold her tongue from that point on. That had been about an hour ago. And while the view from the vast corridor was likely a step above the dungeon, it was rather drafty and she was starting to catch a chill. Sitting around in damp clothes probably wasn’t great for one’s constitution. She was considering asking for a robe when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. 

She spotted the High Lord of Summer at the head of the approaching group. She offered him her most innocent smile.

“Hello Tarquin,” she said sweetly, as if greeting an old friend, “I would stand to greet you but...” Nesta lifted her shackled hand and rattled the chain, which was used to secure her to the bench. Sometimes you let your actions do the talking. 

It wasn’t Tarquin who spoke next.

“Nesta! _”_ called out a familiar voice, freezing her in place. _It couldn’t be._

Feyre stepped around Tarquin, presenting herself to Nesta for the first time in years. She had not seen her sister since the day she left Velaris. Had not heard Feyre’s voice since the morning her banishment was decreed. Nesta looked at her sister and felt the blood drain from her face. Pregnant. Her baby sister was pregnant. Quite far along, judging by her appearance. Nesta was so far removed from her sister’s life that she had no clue Feyre was expecting a child. 

Their reunion wasn’t supposed to happen like this. In all the dozens, _hundreds_ , of way she pictured their reunion it was nothing like this. Not when Nesta was chained to a bench like a common criminal. Not when she had been brought down even lower than before. Shame filled her and Nesta dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to meet Feyre’s eyes.

_Today wasn’t supposed to go like this._

“Varian, report.”Tarquin ordered. 

The Captain of the Royal Guards gave a succinct account on the movements leading up to her capture. He alluded that the guards were unable to detect her point of entry, but they were scouring the grounds in search of possible accomplices. The palace was warded against winnowing so it unlikely that she made it this far on her own. Her outfit was peculiar but a body search turned up no weapons. She was just a damp, lost female of little threat. The only reason she was secured here at not the dungeon was solely due to her relations with the ruling family of the Night Court. It was probably bad policy to imprison the sister of your esteemed guest. 

“Do you know what she was looking for?” asked Rhysand as he peered down at her, nose wrinkled as if faced with a particularly unpleasant bug. _Bastard._

“Not currently, no.” admitted Varian. 

“She was definitely found in an out-of-bounds area, Rhysand.” Tarquin reminded her brother-in-law. 

“I know she was, and I’m sorry.” Feyre quickly spoke up, “Please believe me that we’ll address this as soon as we’re all back home.”

_Wait, what?_

Even Rhysand seemed surprised by his wife’s words. Apparently he didn’t want to bring her back to Velaris, either. Who ever thought the two of them would agree on anything? Nesta was dimly aware of Eris and Helion joining their little party. 

“What’s this, then?” sniffed Eris. Her gaze flicked up to meet his amber eyes and she quickly looked away. 

“Is that Feyre’s _sister_ chained up? My, my! What a marvelous little situation we’ve stumbled across here.” Helion added, voice filled with apparent delight. 

Rhysand shot Helion a look.

“It’s a misunderstanding.” Feyre tried to explain as she took a defensive step in front of Nesta, “Trust me that this will all be straightened up and proper restitutions will be made.”

The High Lord of Summer frowned as if he didn’t like his idea. Nesta was going to have to side with Tarquin here. She didn’t think she would prefer being chained in a dungeon, but that was the kind of day this was turning out to be.

“I’m not just going to release her. She was caught trespassing on Summer grounds. The consequences are not up to _you_ to decide.”

“She’s my mate’s _sister,_ Tarquin. She a citizen of the Night Court and it falls to our authority to merit out her punishment.” Rhysand argued.

Yeah, it was really in her best interest to avoid Velaris for the indefinite future. 

“If I’m not mistaken, Nesta Archeron was banished from the Night Court a few years prior. Other than sisterly relations, you really have no claim on her.” Helion pointed out. 

“Enough! This matter will be resolved at a later time. Varian, please see that Lady Nesta is placed in quarters respectful of her station. See that it is _secured._ ” Tarquin added with a quick glare at his prisoner, “In the meantime, I believe we are late for dinner.”

Tarquin began to usher the various High Lords of Prythian out of the corridor. Feyre looked like she was about to complain before Rhysand took her arm and lead her away. She cast one last desperate glance at her estranged sister and followed her husband’s out the door. Nesta was left along with the Varian and half a dozen Royal Guards. 

“So, now what?” she asked. 

~

Quarters benefiting Nesta’s station apparently meant a step above the dungeons, but it wasn’t much better. She was ushered into a small, single room chamber. Its furnishings had been stripped away prior to Nesta’s arrival. A cot, the cell’s lone piece of furniture, sat underneath a barred window. Her only creature comfort was a thin blanket tossed haphazardly on the bed. She doubted the window was left unlocked, but would check as soon as her jailers left. 

“Is there any chance I can use the bathroom to freshen up?’

Varian merely jerked his head towards a chamber pot in the corner.

“Help yourself.” he offered with a thin smile, and closed the door behind him.

_It was worth a try._

She stepped onto the bed and slid the windowpane back in order gain access to the bars. She gave them a halfhearted tug and was unsurprised to find the bars locked in place, bolted from the outside. Nesta dropped down on the cot with a put-upon sign, draping the itchy blanket around herself for warmth. 

She couldn’t very well take offense to her treatment - she _was_ found lurking around uninvited - but she had hoped for a little more leeway. Well, its not like she was trapped indefinitely. Feyre was her sister, after all, and she highly doubted Tarquin would let her languish for too long. Her jailers would eventually allow her to bathe, where she’d have the occasion to vanish entirely. She wasn’t eager to reveal her powers but it was the easiest way out of her predicament. 

It was a waiting game at this point. Tarquin was unlikely to release her to the Night Court’s authority before several rounds of questioning. If she were on her best behaviour they may reward her with the opportunity to bathe. Worse case scenario; they hold off until they were ready to hand her over to Feyre. She doubted they would release her to the High Lady of Night in less than presentable condition. Nesta would eventually have a chance to escape. Nesta just needed to bide her time and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

So, not the greatest turn of events but certainly something she could rectify. There was little to do now, but wait. She stretched out on the thin mattress and relaxed. 

And then, just before the setting sun dipped past the horizon, Nesta drifted off to sleep. 

~

The sound of clanging metal tore Nesta from her slumber. She shot up in bed, slightly disorientated. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, had wanted to remain alert for Varian’s return, but the stresses of the day had caught up to her. She cast a look around the room, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Nighttime had long since fallen. Moonlight spilled in from the open window, the only illumination inside her cell. 

She stood back up on the bed to peek outside. Nesta’s foot caught on the blanket and she staggered forward, throwing out a hand to steady herself. She gripped the window bar for support but stumbled even further when it swung out on its hinges. Startled, she braced herself against the wall as she struggled to regain her balance. 

_What the hell?_

The bars were unlocked? She peered outside and, sure enough, the lock had been removed from the bars at some point. Could that have been the sound that woke her? She pushed the bars fully open and peeked her head outside, trying to get a better idea of the exterior surroundings. The courtyard was cast in deep shadows but seemed to be empty. It looked to be an eight-foot drop down. Not ideal, but manageable if she timed the landing properly. 

Nesta turned back to scan her cell door, listening for the sounds of footsteps in the outside hall. _Nothing._ She was alone. Was it a trap? Probably. Locks didn’t magically fly off of prison windows and anyone who could be of assistance wasn’t really in position to help at the moment. But the opportunity was presenting itself; she’d be a fool to ignore it. 

Besides, how would she hide the missing lock? Staying in her cell would raise some uncomfortable questions. As far as her sister was aware, Nesta had simply been off gallivanting across the countryside. Nesta didn’t need Feyre to start wondering _why_ Nesta thought it prudent to stick around when escape was so close at hand. If Feyre started poking around she might uncover the reason for her extended absence, and then there would be no stopping her sister. 

So, yes, it was probably a trap. But Nesta was certain she was jailed next to the interior courtyard. She _knew_ there was a large fountain in the middle of the grounds. She’d just have to search for it by moonlight and escape, the High Lords being none the wiser of her cauldron-given magic.

Mind made up, Nesta pulled herself up and awkwardly positioned herself half in, half out of the window. With a finale check to confirm that her door remained shut, Nesta swung her legs outside of the window and slowly lowered herself down from the ledge. Or, at least, she tried to. Her fingers slipped and she landed on her ass, falling onto her back with a feeble grunt. She gave herself a minute to catch her breath, staring up into the night sky while seriously contemplating the life choices that lead up to this moment.

Well, she was committed to the escape now. There was no way she could pull herself back up and into her room, the window was fully out of reach. Nesta rolled onto her knees and pushed herself to her feet. Thankfully the only thing that seemed overly bruised was her ego. 

Nesta scanned the courtyard again. There were no guards lurking in the shadows. The only sound that permeated the air was the buzz of nocturnal insects. She hunched down and picked her way through the manicured grass. If she recalled correctly, there were several stone pathways that twisted around the courtyard, eventually meeting at the fountain in the center. She would just need to find one and follow the path to her freedom. 

Luck had finally smiled down upon her; she found a pathway with little effort. She could hear the sound of running water only a few seconds later. Nesta hurried down the pathway, her leather flats padding quietly against the stones. She spotted the fountain as soon as she turned a corner, just beyond a row of soaring hedges. Biting back a grin, Nesta redoubled her effort and made her way towards freedom. She was ten yards away from the fountain when a pair of hands snaked out from behind and pulled her back. She let out a startled cry as a large hand wrapped itself around her mouth, effectively silencing her. The other arm wrapped around her torso and Nesta was yanked back into a much larger body. 

Nesta fumbled wildly in attempt to throw him off, but he held on with ease, as if she weighted nothing. He was strong. He was much too strong. She kicked back, her heel glancing off his lower leg. He grunted and hauled her up until her feet were dangling over open air, unable to make purchase. Full-blown panic was overtaking Nesta; she began to shout in earnest, hoping to attract the attention of a passing guard, but no sound escaped the hand against her mouth. He then began dragging her back into the shadowy hedges. 

_Oh Gods. Oh Gods. Oh Gods._

Tears of alarm began to fill her eyes, blurry her already dismal vision. She kicked back and this time made direct contact with the fleshy part of his thigh. He dropped to his knees with a grunt, taking Nesta down with him. He threw out the arm holding her in an attempt to stop their fall, releasing Nesta. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she lurched forward in a desperate attempt to crawl away. She made it less than a meter before he grasped her ankle and yanked her back. He threw his weight onto Nesta’s back, pressing her into the damp grass. Trapping her. 

His hand was back on her mouth, silencing Nesta before she could draw in a breath. His other hand grabbed her arm and pinned it to the ground, locking her in place. _Not good. Not good. Not good._ She was trapped, only steps away from freedom. An involuntary whine rose up from the back of the throat.

He lowered himself down until he was only a hairbreadth away. Nesta could feel his breath on her neck as he leaned in closer, his cheek pressed against hers. 

"Hello, Sweetheart." Cassian whispered into her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! I'm overly judgmental of my own writing, so the fact you had taken time out of your day to show support blew me away. 
> 
> Comments let me know that you appreciate the story and if you like the direction that it's headed in.
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The Safe House_


	3. The Safe House

~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

_The Adriata Palace_

_The Summer Court_

“Hello, Sweetheart” Cassian whispered into her ear.

Nesta froze at the sound of his voice. _Cassian. It was Cassian._ Her body went limp as relief washed over her. He shifted position, releasing her entirely as he backed away to give her space. Nesta placed her still shaking hands at her side and pushed off the damp ground, carefully flipping around into a sitting position. He knelt down a few feet away, half hidden in the shadows. Nesta peered up at his handsomely rugged face. A few locks of hair had escaped the leather tie at the nape of his neck, falling around his face and collar. She felt a ridiculous urge to push back the curls and tuck them behind his ear. 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked conversationally, the side of his mouth pulling up slightly. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him. He thought this was funny? She was _escaping prison_ and he thought this was a joke? Annoyance washed over her. She ignored her better judgement and punched his shoulder, wincing as her fist made contact with the hard Illyrian leathers. 

“Ow.” She muttered darkly as she waved her wounded hand, trying to distract from its sting. 

His generous lips curled into a grin as one of the wayward curls fell over his brow, obscuring his left eye. A long-buried sensation fluttered in her stomach. Nesta had almost forgotten the maddening reactions he could pull from her. For the sake of her pride she decided to pretend like the last five seconds didn’t happen. She did her best to ignore the swirling butterflies in her stomach and threw him a glare for good measure.

“Yes, actually, this is a bad time.” she told him tartly as she stood up, “I was trying to sneak out of here undetected, in case you’re too dim to notice.”

Much to her consternation Cassian simply crossed his legs at the ankle as if completely at ease, the picture of relaxed arrogance. He plucked a flower off of a neighbouring plant and brought it close to his face for closer examination, acting as if they had all the time in the world. Nesta resisted the urge to kick him, mainly because she was wearing soft leather flats and would probably end up hurting herself. 

“I could see that.” He deigned to answer. “Tell me Sweetheart, where exactly you were planning to go? Maybe you failed to realize it but you were heading towards the _center_ of the castle, not away from it.”

 _Oh._ Cassian had pointed out the one vital detail that failed to dawn on her. She had been heading towards the center of the courtyard where a large water fountain – and her freedom – lay. He didn’t know about her ability to shift locations through a body of water and was in her best interest to hide that particular secret. Nesta racked her brain in an effort to find a sufficient excuse, but everything fell short. 

In the meantime he had supposedly relaxed his fill, because Cassian stood up and brushed dirt and grass from his leathers. Because, apparently, his appearance was their biggest priority. _This whole day has really gone off the rails_ , she thought ruefully. Cassian, apparently clean enough to meet his standards, focused his attention back on Nesta. 

“What was your plan to get out of here, anyway? I gave you a head start by taking the lock off your window. Your escape was quite the show, by the way. Thanks for that little bit of entertainment.”

“Not everyone comes equipped with a pair of wings, you know.” She snapped.

Cassian barked out a laugh which only irritated her further. She was struggling to remember why she had ever missed the Illyrian in the first place. 

“True.” He agreed a little too shrewdly for her liking. “I think your whole escape plan would have gone off much easier if it relied on flight. In fact, I think it’s safe to say it’s the only way you’re getting out of here.”

Nesta froze. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her like he knew something she didn’t. He was acting like the cat that caught the canary. That wasn’t a good sign when it came to Cassian.

“What are you neglecting to tell me?” She asked through clenched teeth.

“In about, oh, four minutes from now, a squadron of Royal Guards are coming out on patrol. And I’m really looking forward to watching you squirm your way out of that.”

 _Fuck_ . That is not good. This is _so_ not good. If Cassian’s timing was correct then she was running out of options. It was becoming exceptionally clear; Nesta wasn’t escaping the palace without him. She had played right into his hands. 

“You’re bluffing.” She hazarded in an attempt to bide herself extra time. 

There _must_ be another option. Nesta wouldn’t leave with Cassian, not without a fight. The distant sound of an opening gate was the only response. She spun around and attempted to pinpoint the direction it came from. Cassian stepped closer, head tilted in mock despair. She was caught in his trap and he knew it. 

“Looks like they’re early.” He commented nonchalantly. “Whatever shall we do?”

To the north side of the courtyard, off in the distance, she could vaguely detect a group of shadows moving towards them. It must be the Royal Guard. Nesta would be discovered in a matter of minutes. There was no way she would be able to reach the fountain before they spotted her. That was it. She was out of options. She would have to leave with Cassian and worry about everything else once they were safely away.

“Fine, you win.” She seethed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cassian was at her side in the space of a heartbeat. He folded an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Hold on, Sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear, her only warning before Cassian launched them straight up into the night’s sky.

Nesta gasped and flung her arms around him, clutching him tightly as she pressed her face into his neck. She could feel Cassian’s laughter rumble deep inside his chest. _I’d forgotten how much I hate flying._

Angry shouts rose up from somewhere far below. She risked a peek down, the guards no bigger than ants from her current elevation. Cassian had taken to the air mere seconds ago and they were already nearing the Palace’s highest peak. Her stomach rolled and she was dangerously close to losing her lunch. Pride long forgotten, Nesta buried her face back into Cassian’s chest in an attempt to block everything out. She felt him lower his mouth towards her.

“It’s okay, Nes. I’ve got you.”

She nodded to acknowledge that she heard him, afraid to do much else. Cassian seemed content with that and he flew in silence for the next several minutes. The wind howled in her ear and Nesta tried not to imagine what it would sound like if he accidentally dropped her from this height. Nesta began to shiver from either her fear or the freezing winds, and Cassian tucked her even tighter against him. Nesta was making sure she was properly dressed the time she agreed to have Cassian fly her anywhere. Her clothing did little to protect from the cutting winds. 

Except there wouldn’t be a next time. Nesta was never doing this again. 

They gradually began to descend and she mustered the courage to pull away and look down at their surroundings. In the span of a few short minutes he had taken them outside of Adriata and over the bay, landing on one of the settlements that lined the opposite shore. He touched down gently and lowered her to the cobblestone street. Nesta held him tightly for another minute, not quite trusting her legs to keep upright. Cassian allowed her stay there, running a soothing hand down her arm. Eventually she felt him lightly examine the braid that ran down her back, fiddling it between his fingers, and she mustered the courage to draw back. 

“Your braid is down. You used to wear it up,” he made a motion around his head, “like a crown. It looks nice like this. More relaxed.”

 _Oh._ Nesta stepped away from him and self-consciously ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing down any loose hairs that became disheveled during the flight. Cassian smiled at the action. It was the first genuinely warm smile he’d given her in, well, years. The fluttering sensation in her stomach was back. 

“What?” she asked softly.

“I haven’t properly seen you in three years. I’m just taking everything in.”

“ _Oh.”_ She said, trying and failing to bring a hint of sharpness back to her voice. 

This wasn’t good. She needed to stay angry, to be thoroughly frustrated with him. It was for the best if she needed to leave him behind. Could she walk away from him, now? When he had held her so gently and complimented her hair? And she _would_ need to leave him behind, likely sooner than she was prepared for. Because every hour she spent out in Prythain was another hour the Mortal Queens were closer to finding her. She’d lay good odds the Queen’s dogs had already started to hunt her.

It was one thing to be found tucked away under the watch of a High Lord, the vast amount of palace security should be enough to deter them, it was quite another to be found alone on the streets of Summer. And if the Queen’s dogs would come for her if Nesta was found unprotected. She couldn’t risk Cassian getting caught in the middle. He may be a powerful force in his own right, but he was only one male. A sweet, compassionate male - one would do anything to protect her - but it wouldn’t be enough.

She took a moment to look at him, to _really_ look at him, and was dismayed at what she found. The light had once shone in his eyes had dimmed, as if that the previous years weighed heavily on his soul. The locks of hair that escaped the customary tie at the back of his head seemed longer, wilder. His jaw sported a week’s growth of beard. Nesta knew she was partially at fault, knew he dedicated too much time trying to track her down. The guilt twisted in her gut like a knife. 

But she couldn’t explain things to Cassian. Not when she knew in her bones that he’d do everything in his power to stay by her side, to keep her safe. It would put a target on his back and that wasn’t something she was willing to risk, not when she had managed to survive the past three years without his help. Despite how much it hurt, despite how much she wanted him at her side, she would do it for him. Because if he was willing to risk everything to keep her safe, then it was only fair she did the same for him. So she’d make him believe she would remain by his side and try to forget the betrayal in his eyes when she eventually left him behind. But, for now, she’d give herself a moment to bask in his presence. Perhaps it would be enough to tide her over.

Nesta walked back up to his side and placed her hand upon his chest, just over his heart. Cassian seemed to stop breathing as she looked up into his eyes. 

“Where do we go, now?” She asked softly. 

~

It turned out that Cassian had a safe house on the outskirts of the town, less than two kilometers from their landing point. They walked the rest of the way under the cover of darkness, moonlight guiding their way home. The streets were virtually deserted due but Cassian insisted that she stay close to his side as he kept watch for possible threats. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him but obediently remained nearby. He was silent for the majority of their walk, not wanting to draw the attention of the few fae they passed on their journey.

Nesta supposed that it was safe to speak after ten minutes without spotting another living soul.

“Is it a coincidence that you just happen to have a secret safe house outside of Adriata?”

Cassian’s warm hazel eyes flicked down to meet hers, his mouth pulling in for a tight grin. He went back to assessing their surroundings before answering. 

“Would it be a safe house if it _wasn’t_ secret?” He asked rhetorically, voice thick with humour. “But to answer your question; no. It’s not a coincidence that I have a hidden apartment in the Summer Court. I had a, well, let’s call it a run-in a few years back. To make a long story short; their High Lord doesn’t exactly welcome me here. I decided that discretion is the better part of valour when dealing with business inside the Summer Court. What Tarquin doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Or me”

Nesta paused to stare at him, a brow raised in question. 

“You’re here as a fugitive?”

“You’re the only fugitive here, Sweetheart.” He pointed out, gently bumping a hip against hers before returning to their stroll. “I’m just here in secret. No one other than Az knows I came to Adriata.”

 _Azriel._ It made perfect sense that the Spymaster was the connection to all of this. He was probably attending the summit as a member of the Night Court’s entourage. Azriel probably wasted no time getting word to Cassian once he learned about Nesta’s capture. She should have expected it, really. Maybe she was starting to get a little sloppy. 

Still, a conversation involving Azriel was something that she wanted to avoid. The discussion would drift dangerously close to her sisters, and that was a topic to steer clear of entirely. It was hard enough living with the knowledge she would shortly betray Cassian. Involving her sisters would add another level of pain to the whole ordeal and she wanted to forget about everything, if only for a moment. 

“So where are you taking your favouite fugitive?” Nesta asked, attempting to add a little levity to her voice.

Cassian merely raised a single finger to his lips, signaling that their destination was still his secret to keep. There was a dangerous glint in his eye as he looked down on her, something primal in his gaze. Right now Cassian wasn’t contemplating her as if she was a problem to be solved. Rather, he gazed at Nesta like a man who looked appreciatively at a woman. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and dragged her eyes away. _Now is_ not _the time for distractions._

She’d been drawn to Cassian since the first time he showed up at the door to her family’s estate, all those years ago. His first words had been to issue her a challenge, and he’d never once backed down in all the time that followed. He was the only man – _the only_ _male_ – who wasn’t afraid to verbally spar with Nesta but also relished the occasion. Cassian delighted in their banter, always eager to engage her in their war with words. 

And, _gods_ , could she ever forget their few stolen moments together? How they skirted the boundaries of propriety the rare times they found themselves alone, back when Nesta was more beholden to mortal standards of decorum. Her cheeks warmed when she recalled the time in the Mortal Lands when Cassian had hauled her against his, trailing kissed down her neck as her body sang for more. 

The Hybern came and drowned her in that never-ending darkness, ripping Nesta out of her mortal body and forcing her into this strange new world. She was _made_ , akin to the very creatures that used to feature in her nightmares. She was like Cassian, but she was also something _more_. Something worse. And when every other member of that damned Inner Circle instinctively shrank back from her, Cassian would push forward. Always engaging. He never feared her, never shied away. He was the one person that helped keep her sane in those first few unsettling weeks, when Feyre was lost to Spring and Elain was lost in her own mind. Cassian had been her lifeline to sanity, her link to salvation.

It was in the early days of Velaris that Nesta began to admit that their bond was more than simple physical attraction. It was deeper than that. Sometimes it almost seemed like a living thing, forever connecting them. Even now she could feel the connection hum between them, pulling her towards him. Whatever existed between them was so much more than physical. It was so. Much. More.

Regardless, she couldn’t deny her attraction to Cassian. Not from the day he showed up in the Mortal Lands and threw away her preconceived notions of the fae. And she couldn’t deny her attraction to him now. And, for the first time in years, she was alone with him. He was so close. Cassian was so, _so_ close. She could reach out and touch him. Embrace him. Gods, Nesta remembered how _right_ it felt to be held in his arms. Could she let it happen again, now that they were alone? Could she be with him, even if it was only for a little while? 

“You’re staring.” His deep voice cut in, luring her away from her musings.

Nesta’s cheeks flushed. Judging by the expression on his face he’d likely guessed the direction her thoughts had run off in. Did he even think about it? How they had the freedom to come together without the constant hovering of a sister, or a brother, or a friend? Considering the way his pupils dilated as he took her in, she thought it likely. 

“Are we almost there?” She asked, if only for something to say. Cassian placed his arm on her lower back and led her the rest of the way. 

~

Cassian’s safe house was less than five minutes away in a small, low-rise building. He took her hand and led her down a small hallway towards the ground level apartment. The door to the residence was magically locked to Cassian and swung open after registering his presence. He stepped in and switched on the light, revealing a modest kitchen and seating area. A hallway jutted off to the left of the entrance, leading towards what she presumed to be a bathroom or bedroom. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” he told her wryly as he flipped open a kitchen cupboard, taking stock. The apartment was surprisingly warm, with rich tapestries on the walls and plush, velvety sofas in the sitting area. She suspected that she would sink right into the cushions the moment she sat down.

“It’s lovely.” Nesta told him truthfully. Any desire to live in more cosmopolitan dwellings had abated a long time ago. 

Cassian looked up from the pantry and ran a critical eye over her, his eyes lingering on her décolletage for perhaps just a second too long. Nesta looked down and took in her outfit with fresh eyes. It was nothing scandalous by any stretch of the imagination but it was certainly dissimilar to her previous attire. It was a modified swimming costume of her own design. The fabric was the same used in traditional bathing costumes, while the cut was closer to a fitted pair of trousers and short sleeve shirt. It was nondescript while allowing for freedom of movement when shifting locations. Nesta had learned the hard way that a sodden gown can quickly become dangerous in the wrong circumstances. 

“Are you cold? Can I get you something to wear? A cloak, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes. That would be great, actually.” She told him as she rubbed her arms for warmth. 

“I’ll be right back.” Cassian called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway. 

She took advantage of his momentary absence to snoop around his apartment. From the kitchen window she could make out the bay of Adriata, the moonlight dancing over dark waters. It was downhill, at least three kilometers away. It wasn’t ideal for a quick escape. Still, Nesta hoped to delay that particular problem for a day or two. With any luck the Queens would give her a long reprieve before pulling her back to reality.

Cassian appeared after a moment, examining the thick cable knit sweater in his hands.

“Is this okay?” he asked and Nesta bit back a smile at the look of apprehension on his face. “It’s all I can find. It’s clean but it’s made for an Illyrian. The back opening for the wings can be fastened, so that shouldn’t be a problem. It's just you’re a little… small”

Nesta laughed gently at that. She was definitely small compared to him, but then again, most were. She doubted the average soldier possessed half of Cassian’s dedication to training. Still, she could spend the next five centuries lifting weights and she doubted she’d reach half his mass. 

“It’s fine, Cassian.” She assured him and, Mother above, he practically preened at that. 

Nesta took the heavy sweater from him and slid her arm through a sleeve, silently laughing when the cuff dangled several inches below her fingers. The garment hung more like a robe but she couldn’t deny that it was incredibly comfortable. 

Cassian wandered over to the seating area and took a seat on one of those cushy-looking sofas. Nesta trailed behind him, taking a quick sniff of the sweater while his back was turned. It smelled vaguely of Cassian, just as she thought. It was a woodsy scene; warm and opulent with an underlying hint of honey, all very much _Cassian_. She lightly dropped down beside him, tucking a leg underneath. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked after a beat. “There isn’t a lot of fresh food but the panty is stocked with dry goods. I can whip up something quickly.” 

Nesta bit her lip as she considered his offer. She was hungry, hadn’t had time to eat since before her stunt in the palace, but she was starting to feel guilty for putting Cassian through so much trouble. She wanted to help ease his burden, if only for a moment. The very least she could do was offer to help.

“I can make you dinner,” She told him as she started to rise, “in case there’s something else you need to do.”

“No!” He barked out.

His response threw Nesta so off guard that she froze in halfway into standing position. Cassian grimaced slightly and put a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down on the sofa. He continued in a gentler tone. 

“I don’t mind, really. There aren't a lot of options at the moment but I can make a mean plate of pasta with available ingredients. You won’t be able to tell the sauce came from a can.”

With that he strode over to the kitchen. If Nesta took a movement to admire his ass, well, she was only human. Or whatever the fae-equivalent of that was. Her eyes returned to a more respectable level by the time he turned back around to face her, stockpot in hand. He added water, a little salt, and set it to boil. Nesta meandered over to keep him company while he worked. 

“I don’t suppose you feel like sharing the reason you were at the palace earlier?” He asked her in a casual tone, like he was asking about the weather. 

Nesta apprehension came rushing back. _One evening_ . Nesta wanted _one evening_ to pretend that everything was normal, that she didn’t have a sword hanging over her head. She assumed Cassian was on board; willing to ignore the conflict ahead of them, if only for a little while. He must have read the worry on her face as he stiffened and immediately dropped his casual stance. 

“If you’re not ready to talk about it yet, then that’s fine. But we need to discuss it eventually.” He took a breath, returning his gaze to the stove as he continued. “So much has happened these past few years, so much that I don’t understand. I know you thought running was your only option but a lot of time has passed. Your sisters just want you home. _I_ want you home.”

Cassian’s voice wavered slightly and something in her gut twisted at his admission. Of course she knew he wanted her home, but to hear him speak so plainly, with such need in his voice... _Gods_ , it was taking everything in her not to fall into his arms and explain everything that happened since she first left Velaris.

He stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, lifting his eyes back to meet hers.

“You don’t need to tell me anything tonight. We can just… pretend everything is fine. If that’s what you need right now, then I’m willing to wait.”

Nesta nodded her head, unable to meet his eyes. Mother above, what had she been thinking? There was no way she was walking away from Cassian unscathed. If she were to entertain a dalliance with him… _Gods_ , she might as well give up now. He held too much power over her. He was a dangerous male and this was a dangerous game. A game that she wasn’t willing to lose, not with so much at stake. So Nesta forced a smile on her face and met his gaze. 

“Okay, I will tell you everything in the morning. But tonight is just for us.” She told him in what she hoped was a passably breezy tone. 

She walked over to a cabinet and began to root around for plates and cutlery, busywork to keep her attention off of the Illyrian. She told herself it was an act of service and not one of cowardice. Nesta snuck a glance at him as she maneuvered around the table to set the dishes. He was watching her with a considering expression, lips pressed in a grim line.

Nesta straightened and immediately dropped her affected mannerism. 

“I mean it, Cassian. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. I just need a bit of time, that’s all.” She lied, heart twisting at the deception. 

A muscle flexed in his jaw as he measured her words. Cassian nodded after a moment and went back to preparing their dinner. She watched as he lithely moved around the small space, grabbing a few spices to add to the marinara. The rich scent of the pasta sauce wafted over and her stomach let out an involuntary rumble. Cassian tossed her a quick smile and assured her that dinner was almost ready as he moved to drain the pasta. Some of her tension eased away. He’d believed her and relaxed his guard. 

Nesta claimed a spot at the table and watched him work, admiring the lines of his battle scarred wings.

“It smells good.” She told him, rising to help him bring the food over. Cassian waved her away and poured a generous portion onto both of their plates. She took a bite, closing her eyes in pleasure at the full-bodied sauce. Cassian didn’t exaggerate when he promised her a good meal. 

“This is shockingly delicious.” She told him over a mouthful of food. 

Cassian arched a brow at that. 

“I don’t know what the most surprising thing about today is, but a compliment from Nesta Archeron is definitely up there.”

She bit back a smile, taking a sip of water to cover the gesture. 

“I’ll try to remember that.” She told him in a mock-airy tone. “I’d hate to become too predictable.”

Cassian dropped his fork to his plate and surveyed her with serious eyes. 

“You’re many things, Sweetheart, but predictable isn’t one of them.”

Her throat bobbed and she quickly looked away. Damn the Illyrian. He knew all her buttons and relished pushing everyone of them. 

“Are we going to stay here for a few days?” She asked, changing the subject. Cassian was a sharp male. It’d be smart to throw off any lingering suspicion about her intentions. 

“I guess that depends on what you’re comfortable with. We can stay here until you’re ready but I’m hoping you’ll seriously consider coming back to Velaris.” He paused before adding. “But I don’t want to push you into anything. I’m just happy you’ve agreed to stay for a while.”

Nesta dragged a forkful of pasta through the sauce and took a bite, hoping that he didn’t notice her evading the last comment. She hated lying to him. Still, the longer she dragged this out the harder it will be for both of them. She swallowed and asked the question she’d wanted to avoid since arriving at his apartment. 

“I wouldn’t mind freshening up after dinner. Do you mind if I have a quick bath when we’re done eating?” 

His eyes slid over to Nesta, giving her an appraising look. 

“You want to look pretty for me, Sweetheart?” he grinned when she choked on her pasta, continuing before she had a chance to lobby back a retort. “The bathroom is just down the hall. I can grab you a spare shirt to sleep in.”

Nesta tried to ignore the sly look on his face. He was probably picturing her wearing one of his too-large shirts. Or maybe he was picturing her wearing nothing at all, considering the way he was eyeing her. 

“Pervert.” she hissed. 

He threw his head back and laughed at that, a full on _Cassian_ laugh. When she was growing up, before her dad squandered their wealth, the aristos would refrain from similar boisterous displays. They thought it uncouth. Cassian was so different from the boys of her youth. That fluttering was back in her stomach and she did her best to ignore it. 

They quickly finished dinner. She surprised herself by eating the entire dish, equal in size to Cassian’s portion. He was pleased with her appetite, probably thinking back to her weight loss during those dark days in Velaris. Nesta had gained it all back and then some, strengthening her muscles with near-daily swims. She may not have the mass of a hulking Illyrian but she’d work hard to regain her health. One shouldn’t fault her on the odd occasion she took a moment to admire elongated muscles. Nesta worked hard for her healthy body. 

She rose to clear the plates and Cassian brushed her off once again, claiming that she was his guest and therefore it was his duty to clean. After dropping their plates in the sink he gestured for her to follow him down the hall. Nesta did her best to quash her growing apprehension. He opened up a linen closet, pulling out a thick towel for her to use.

“The bathroom is on your left. There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door, you’re free to use it. I’ll leave suitable sleepwear for you on the bed down the hall.” He paused, giving her a soft smile. “And Sweetheart, I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

“See you when I’m finished.” She lied, giving him a tight smile in return. She watched Cassian disappear into the bedroom, trying to remember every line of his body as he left her view. Blinking back sudden tears, Nesta turned away and entered the bathroom. 

And froze. 

There was no bathtub. _Why was there no bathtub?_ Nesta peaked behind the door, as if the architect had somehow managed to hide an Illyrian-sized tub in slim space between the wall and the door. Nothing. She looked back to the strange glass shelter built into the corner of the room. There was a soap dish on the side of the wall, so she assumed this was the tub. But she couldn’t figure out how to fill it since the glass entrance didn’t appear to have a waterproof seal.

“Oh, Nesta?” Cassian’s muffled voice came through the bathroom door, “This apartment came with shower stall instead of a bathtub. You turn it on the usual way and water comes from the faucet in the ceiling. Let me know if you need help figuring it out.”

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_ Nesta thought in a panic. She had never once come across a shower stall in all her life and _now_ she finds one? Nesta inspected the stall before turning the tap. Sure enough, water sprayed out from the faucet like raindrops. Which was all fine and dandy, except Nesta couldn’t shift through rain. She needed to be submerged in water in order to shift between locations, with the body of water acting as a doorway between the two. This was one of the first things she experimented with after leaving the Night Court. Nesta could be in the middle of a torrential downpour and her magic was useless unless she was immersed in water. 

“You okay in there?”

“Um, just peachy.” Nesta called back, trying to hide the panic in her voice. “It’s an interesting invention. I may indulge myself a little while I’m here.”

Cassian didn’t have a rejoinder for that comment, thank the Mother, and she listened as his footsteps recede back towards the kitchen. Nesta leaned back against the glass stall as she weighted her options. He was willing to stay in the Summer Court for as long as she was comfortable, so she could delay her departure for a little while. But the Queen’s lackies were likely hot on her trail. She had another day – two at most – before they came hunting for her. So, either way, her time in the Summer Court needed to come to an end. 

Nesta drew back the window covers to gage her surroundings. The bathroom overlooked a private courtyard. The window was large enough that she could easily slip out. She could be outside and away from the building in under a minute if she decided to make a run for it. Cassian was busy cleaning up and thought Nesta was taking her time bathing. She’d probably have at least twenty minutes before checking on her, by then she would be halfway to the bay under the cover of darkness. The water pouring out of the faucet was also loud enough to disguise her movements. She returned to the bathroom door and pressed an ear against it, listening. She couldn’t hear anything. Cassian wasn’t hovering outside. 

It was time. 

She folded Cassian’s sweater, placed it beside the sink, and silently crossed the room. Nesta gently slid the windowpane open, wincing as the unused joints squeaked in protest. She tossed a quick glance at the door, fearful that Cassian would come to investigate the sound. _Nothing._ Biting her lip, Nesta climbed out the window and dropped down into the grass. The layout of the building put the kitchen to her west so Nesta headed east, following the circumference of the building towards the front entrance. 

She rounded the building and came across a latched gate, thankfully unlocked. It was preferable to avoid climbing fences when possible. With her heart in her throat, she opened the gate and peered into the tree-lined street. Empty. She slipped out, pulled the gate closed behind her, and then dashed towards the street. Adriata’s Bay was three kilometers away but with a little luck she’d come across a fountain or pool on her way there and leave the Summer Court for good. 

Nesta made it twenty feet before she sensed the figure behind her.

“Going somewhere, Nes?" 

~~~~~~~ 

**Cassian**

_Outside the Safe House_

_The Summer Court_

“Running off without a goodbye? That wasn’t very nice of you.” Cassian growled. 

Nesta, who’d frozen upon hearing his voice, glanced to her side as if contemplating making a run for it. He felt his expression turn murderous and gave a small shake of his head, warning her off of the idea. She wouldn’t make it ten paces before he caught up to her. She dropped her shoulders slightly, probably arriving at the same conclusion. 

“We can do this one of two ways.” He drawled as he began to advance on her. “Option one: you come back with me to the apartment and stay, like a good girl. Option two: you make a run for it – like you were thinking about just now – and I throw you over my shoulder and fly like that all the way back to Velaris”

Rage washed over her hauntingly beautiful face, eyes flashing silver in the moonlight. 

“You have no right to keep me here. You’re treating me like a common criminal.” She hissed.

Cassian laughed at that. A dark, humourless laugh.

“Oh, I don’t? Have you forgotten about your burglary of Tamlin’s home? Or the time you broke out of Tarquin’s palace not _three hours ago_ ? Not only do I have a right to contain you, I have an _obligation_ to drag you back to my High Lord.” He snapped angrily.

He had to calm down and take control of the situation. There was zero upside to continuing their argument on an unsecured street way, so Cassian played one card that he knew would faze her. 

“How far did you think you’d get from me, anyway? The bay is almost two miles from here. Did you think you would make it that far before I found you?” He paused to let his words sink in, relishing the look of utter shock painted upon her face. “Oh, you didn’t realize I figured out the secret to your little disappearing act? I’ve long since realized that you need water to winnow. Did you think it was a coincidence that this safe house was one of the rare places in Prythian to have a shower, not a bath?”

Her delicate throat bobbed as she swallowed. The rage that had first marked her face was slowly replaced by uncertainty. She’d thought she had played him like a fool. And, for a short time, she had. For a few soft moments he’d almost believed that Nesta was happy to see him. They’d fallen back into their old dynamic of light banter and flirty glances. When she looked up at him, eyes hooded with desire, he thought she’d return his feelings. He’d allow himself to believe that the old Nesta was back and that she was almost ready to come home. 

And then, when he was preparing dinner, she’d looked right at him and told a bold-faced lie. Nesta simply batted her lashes and promised to spill her secrets, when every inch of her face revealed her plans to run away. She may have learned plenty of new skills during her time away but she would never be able to lie to him, not convincingly. So Cassian gave her enough rope to hang herself with, and Nesta ran at the first opportunity. Just like he knew she would.

So he was done giving her chances. If Nesta wanted him to stay away then he would respect that. If Lucian could learn to live without his mate then Cassian could certainly try. But then Nesta had gone and entangled herself with the matters of Prythain security, forcing his hand. Cassian wasn’t sure to what extent she was entangled with the Mortal Queens, but he knew they wanted revenge. He also didn’t think it was a coincidence that Nesta showed her face at the very same Summit held to tackle the growing problem of the Queens. Even if Nesta rejected him romantically Cassian wouldn’t walk away knowing she was in danger.

So he would give himself one single day to get to the root of the problem. If he couldn’t uncover anything – and if Nesta was unwilling to talk – he’d dump her off for Rhysand to deal with and wash his hands of the whole mess. But for one day he would try to reach Nesta. He vowed, all those years ago, that they would face their future together. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t give it a try. Maybe that made him a fool, but he’d had to try. 

“So, how is this going to play out?” He asked again, ignoring the pained look on her face. “Are you coming back inside? Or are we going for a little ride across Prythian?”

Nesta’s face went ice cold. She threw back her shoulders and jutted out her chin, for all appearances the queen Cassian always privately thought her to be. She blazed past him, dipping her shoulder to avoid contact, and led the way back to the safe house. She paused uncertainty when she reached the doorway to the apartment. Cassian stormed by her, not breaking his pace as he grasped her bicep and pulled her along. He marched Nesta past the bathroom, where the shower still ran unattended, and led her into the bedroom. He stopped there and motioned for her to sit on the bed. A quizzical look graced her face but she obeyed, hands folded primly on her lap. Cassian clasped one of her delicate wrists as knelt down beside her, rummaging under the bed with his free hand. 

“I need a bit of insurance that you’re not going to run off in the middle of the night.” Cassian explained as he blindly searched under the bed, grinning when his hand touched cold metal. “And now I’ll sleep like a baby, knowing you’re stuck here with me.”

He pulled out the metal shackles with a flourish. Nesta jerked back but he kept a tight grip on her, holding her in place. He snapped a cuff on her wrist then stood and led her across the room. There was a metal peg bolted into the opposite wall, well away from the bed. He attached the shackle to the peg and secured her in place. There was a short length of chain that would allow Nesta enough room to sit or stand, but little else. He was glad of that foresight; Nesta looked like she was ready to strangle him in his sleep. 

“You’re a _fucking pig_.”

“Now is that any way for a Lady to speak?” He grinned at her, fully aware it would antagonize her further. “I’m going to take advantage of that shower. I would hate my piggish scent to disturb your sleep.”

And with that, Cassian left Nesta to her rage. 

~

He hovered outside the bedroom door for a few moments, pausing to listen for the sounds of an escape attempt. Judging from the curses streaming over the rattling of chains, Nesta wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

Appeased with the knowledge that she was secure, Cassian stripped off his leathers and stepped into the shower, the thick steam helping to melt away his tension. He had her. After three long years, he actually _had her_. Gods, how many sleepless nights had been spent knowing she was in danger while he was on the sidelines, unable to help?

Feyre might have convinced herself that Nesta was merely off seeing the world but Cassian couldn’t ignore Az’s intel on the Queen’s movements. His gut told him Nesta figured into the Queen’s designs against Prythian, and none of it was good. Those human bitches blamed Nesta for blocking their chance at immortality and they had a nasty habit of sniffing around after Nesta. A blind male could see that staying close to the Summit was the right move. He’d almost kissed Azriel when he’d learn of Nesta’s capture and subsequent imprisonment. Cassian wasn’t chasing after leads for the first time in years, and it had paid off in spades. 

He shut off the shower and towelled dry. Cassian ran a hand through his beard and decided to take time to shave. Nesta had left his sweater folder on the counter and he pushed it to the side, retrieving a shaving kit under the sink. He lathered up and took a moment to study his face. _Mother’s tits_ , he was looking rough these days. Too many sleepless nights, too many skipped meals as he ran himself ragged chasing after his mate. He sighed as he took the blade to the stubble. Those days were over now. Nesta was safely under his control. She wasn’t going anywhere, not until they hashed a few things out.

 _But I should probably give her the night to calm down._ He thought wryly as he tapped the blade against the sink, knocking off excess shaving cream. Nesta was pissed. He really shouldn’t have gone out of his way to wind her up. It wasn’t smart but it was hard not to lash out after the bite of Nesta’s betrayal. Still, he had her now. He needed a moment to relish that fact. 

Cassian slipped on a pair of low hanging sleep pants, grabbed the discarded sweater, and joined Nesta in the bedroom. She was sitting on the floor, head resting on her shackled arm. She gave him a once over, took in his bare chest, and froze. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. Your virtue is safe with me.” He assured Nesta as he tossed her the sweater. It landed beside her and she eyed it as if it were a dangerous animal. “I thought you would want that back, in case you get cold. If that doesn’t work then I’m always willing to warm you up, but I’d rather get through the night with my balls still attached.”

Nesta scowled at him but adjusted the sweater over her like a blanket. She shifted her posture in order to stare him down. Cassian flopped down on the bed and eyed her in return. He briefly considered offering her a pillow before deciding against it. She’d probably figure out a way to smother him with it. 

“Do you plan to keep staring at me all night?” Nesta asked coolly. 

“I’ve spent far too much time in less appealing company, so it’s not a terrible suggestion.” Cassian told her, trying to hide his grin. He failed, but it was the thought that counts. Nesta rolled her eyes at him.

“So what now?”

“Right now? We get some sleep. I’ve spent the day chasing after you and could use my beauty rest. Tomorrow is a busy day. You’ve been running for a long time, and I have questions that you _will_ be answering.”

Worry swept over her pretty face. Nesta broke her gaze away, her eyes tracked down to the sweater on her lap. She picked at a piece of lint on it, brows furrowed. It was clear that she wanted to avoid the subject entirely. Well, too bad. They were on the same side and it was time she remembered that.

“Go to sleep, Nesta.” Cassian told her softly. “Everything else can wait until the morning.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Cassian sighed and leaned back against the pillows in an attempt to get comfortable. Eventually she stretched out on the floor and turned away from him, facing the wall. Cassian stayed there for hours, watching her sleep in the moonlight, and waited for morning to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not ask me why Prythain doesn't have showers. This is SJM's world, I'm just playing around in it.
> 
> As always, comments are so appreciated by me
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The Escape_


	4. The Escape

~~~~~~

**Cassian**

_The Safe House_

_The Summer Court_

Sometime in the early moments of dawn, when the first creeping tendrils of sunlight began to stretch out from below the horizon, Cassian had fallen asleep. He knew this because one moment he was watching the gray morning light begin to stream in through the bedroom window and chase away last night’s shadows. The next moment he had jerked awake in surprise, banging his head against the wall as he fought off the sweater that had landed squarely on his face. 

“ _Mother’s tits_.” Cassian cursed as he dragged the sweater off of his face. He looked to Nesta, who was slowly lowering her arm after throwing the garment on him.

“You were snoring.” She said by way of explanation.

Cassian threw her a look to let her know how much he believed that particular excuse and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He couldn’t have drifted off for very long; the morning sun still hadn’t fully risen above the horizon. He stood and carefully stretched out his wings. They had a tendency to ache before a storm and if the throbbing was any kind of indication, they were in for a doozy. He then rolled his shoulders and twisted his spine, relishing the feelings of joints popping under his ministrations. 

“Rough night?” Nesta asked from her spot on the floor.

“Not the most comfortable of beds.” He told her with a slight shrug. 

“Maybe you slept poorly because you’re elderly? You’re pushing, what, six hundred years now?”

_Cauldron boil him._ Nesta had woken up in a mood and he was _here for it._

“I’m barely a day over five hundred and forty. I’m hardly an old male.” He chided as he stretched his arms over his head, being sure to flex his abdominal muscles _just so_. That’d show her just how youthful he was. “I need to take a piss.”

Nesta made a face and turned away. He chuckled as made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. Afterwards, Cassian popped into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil. He placed two mugs on the counter, and then pulled out crackers and a wedge of cheese and for breakfast. Cassian filled a teapot with the boiled water and set it down to steep, before making his way back to release his prisoner. 

“Ready to rise and meet the day, Sweetheart?” Cassian asked her in a chipper tone that was sure to enrage her. She refused to rise to his bait and merely stretched out her shackled hand expectantly. He grabbed the key from his trouser pocket and crouched down to release her. Nesta pulled away as soon as the cuff popped loose, rubbing her wrist.

“Can I trust you to use the facilities without making a break for it?”

She looked offended by the question, as if she didn’t pull that exact stunt last night. He merely arched a brow at her. 

“Yes.” She hissed as she rose to her feet, checking her hip against his shoulder as she stormed past him. 

He grinned as he threw out a hand to steady himself. Cassian really loved it when she was in these moods. That probably meant there was something fundamentally wrong with him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He puttered outside of the bathroom until the door opened. Nesta stopped abruptly when she realized he had been standing outside waiting for her. He’d been pretending to refold the towels in the linen closet. 

“Hungry?” He asked with an innocent expression. 

Nesta merely sneered as she marched past him. Cassian followed at a safe distance, watching her pert ass as she made her way towards the kitchen. Mother above, he was thankful of her water-winnowing abilities, if only for the clothing requirements that came with it. Nesta in a gown was a vision, but Nesta in tight little trousers was truly a sight to behold. He subtlety adjusted his cock as he took his seat across from her. Cassian snagged a handful of crackers and leaned back in his seat, watching as she poured herself a cup of mint tea. 

“So,” he chimed in brightly, “feel like explaining what you were doing up in the palace?” 

Nesta frowned at him over her steaming mug.

“Can’t I enjoy my tea first? It’s like you’re purposely trying to ruin my appetite.” She muttered darkly.

He sliced off a piece of cheese and took a bite.

“I’m going to get it out of you eventually, so you might as well start talking.” He paused to give her a chance to speak. When Nesta refused to say anything, he continued. “I know it has something to do with the Mortal Queens. No, don’t try to deny it. I know they’ve been on your tail for years now. Their lackeys always turn up after you’ve been spotted.”

“You can’t expect me to take the blame for that. I’m not responsible for their coming and goings.” Nesta sniffed.

“I know you’re not in league with them, stop deflecting. All I’m saying is that I know you haven’t spent the last three years running because you felt like a change of scenery. You’re running, and just not from me.” Cassian eyed her as she paled slightly, and he knew he was on the right track. “The Mortal Queens have been tracking you since you left Velaris, probably even before that. I think you’ve been running primarily from them. And I think you’ve been avoiding your sisters because you're trying to manage it all on your own.”

Nesta fiddled with the mug of tea, unwilling to meet Cassian’s gaze, and he knew without a doubt that his long held theory was correct. This beautiful, terrifying female hid behind a cold veneer, but Cassian saw always through her façade. Nesta had a history of putting her sister’s safety before her own. He could see that, even if his own High Lord would not. 

“Is this something your Spymaster told you?” Nesta asked quietly. 

“Azriel has helped keep track of your never-ending tour of Prythian, yes. But he’s been primarily tracing any leads to the Mortal Queens. You and the Queen’s minions intersect a shocking high amount of times, too much to be discounted. And I know you, Nesta. You have no issue offering yourself up as a sacrifice if it meant sparing your sisters. You did it multiple times during the war with Hybern. It didn’t take a great leap of logic to realize you’re doing the same thing now.”

Nesta lifted her eyes to meet his own and he was taken aback by the pure hostility in them.

“You have me figured out, do you? You think you can throw me in chains and assume I will automatically forgive you just because _you know me_?“ Nesta asked derisively. “You have all the answers when it comes to me. Why should I bother saying another word since you know me so well? What does it even matter?”

Something in him snapped at that.

“I want to hear it out of your mouth because I’ve spent the last _three fucking years_ chasing after you. You’re running because you’re afraid. I want to know why. I didn’t want to chain you up like a criminal, but I was out of options. You have no idea what it’s been like to sit on the sidelines, watching you run for your life. You don’t know how helpless it feels. I couldn’t walk away without one honest conversation beforehand.” He took a deep breath, trying to push down his frustrations. This was not the way to reach her. “And I meant what I said last night; if you want to walk away – truly walk away – then I will honour your decision. But give me one fair chance to help you first. Work with me in good faith. Please.”

Nesta blinked at him, then dropped her eyes to the cup in tea that sat untouched before her. He could practically see her turning over his words. _Give me one chance, please_ , he thought desperately. To be so close to Nesta but unable to help… it was killing him. 

“Let’s just say that it’s true. That I’m… staying away… for my sister’s sake. Why should I go back now? Don’t you remember that I was banished?” She asked in a more restrained voice.

“I remember that you went on a year-long bender in order to forget the war. Feyre sent you away because she was scared. She thought you were killing yourself and was desperate to reach you in any way possible. But I know for a fact that she wants you home now. Besides, you’ll be safer with the backing of an entire Court at your defense”

Nesta looked like she was about to say something, then frowned and looked away. Cassian tried a different approach. 

“Wouldn’t you like to see your sisters again? Feyre is due to give birth in a matter of weeks. And Elain is married to Azriel now. The wedding was just after winter solstice. I’m sure seeing you again would be the best wedding gift.” That was only a half-truth. While Azriel adored his young wife, he was pained that Elain refused to speak of her missing sister. Nesta’s disappearance was the one sore spot in their marriage, but now wasn’t the best time to be pointing that out.

Nesta sighed and took a piece of cheese, inspecting it before popping it in her mouth. 

“I would think my continued absence is the best gift I could give my sisters. They’ve flourished without me, and I’ve done all right on my own.” She told him coolly.

“This doesn’t have to be a fight. Your sisters want you home. You don’t need to keep punishing them for past mistakes.”

Nesta’s nostrils flared in anger. 

“That’s bullshit. I was the one thing holding Feyre back from her perfect life, so I left. I did everyone a favour and walked out the door and never looked back once. She should have celebrated the fact I was gone, that I was no longer around to embarrass her. But now that I’m better, now that I no longer need to drink to keep the Gods-damned nightmares at bay, I’m suddenly good enough for her? I’m finally worthy of her previous Inner Circle?” Nesta sneered.

“Nesta, stop.” Cassian pleaded. “That’s not true. You must realize that none of that is true. Your sisters love you. Feyre asked me to bring you home the moment she realized you left”

“So Feyre sent her favourite lapdog out to hunt me down. Is that why you refuse to let me go? Doesn’t the Commander General of the Night Court armies have a better use of his time?” Nesta asked in a mocking tone, voice breaking at the end. 

_Does Nesta think I’m here by the command of my High Lady_? He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. None of this was going down like he imagined. He didn’t want to fight with her. Not now. 

“Feyre doesn’t know I’m here.” Cassian explained. “And I no longer command the Night Court’s armies.”

Her head jerked back in surprise. Whatever she had expected Cassian to say, it was certainly not that. He reached out across the table and took her small hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. 

“I officially stepped away from the army over two years ago. Rhysand said he would hold the position for me and I’m welcome back the second I’m ready. But I walked away a long time ago.”

“Why would you do that?” She protested weakly. 

“Don’t you know the answer to that already? This is much more important. You’re more important than all of that.”

Nesta’s already pale face blanched even further. Was she shocked that he addressed the connection between them? She must have at least suspected they were mates, right? Still, she was upset by their argument and frightened by his statement. That wouldn’t do. Cassian changed the direction of their conversation, not wanting to scare her further away.

“Your sister doesn’t know that I’m in Summer. I’m here of my own volition. The Mortal Queens have specifically targeted you and I don’t want you to face this alone.” He squeezed her hand, wishing she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I hope you’ll accept my help. I want you to accept my help.”

Nesta nodded and withdrew her hand, wrapping it around the steaming cup of tea. She brought the mug to her nose and breathed in the minty scent. It was a delaying tactic but Cassian was okay with that. He’d searched for her for years. He’d happily give her anything to spend more time in her presence. Nesta placed her mug back down and met his eyes, the resolve clear on her face. 

_“If_ I accept your help, will you promise me that you’ll do things my way? That means no running back to Velaris or the Night Court. I don’t want my sisters to get involved. Not with this.”

_She willing to negotiate._ His spirits soared. 

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from the Mortal Queens. But it’s foolish to immediately reject any help from the Night Court…”

“This is non-negotiable.” Nesta cut him off. “No Feyre. No Elain. I will not drag them into my fight with the Queens. I will not risk my sister’s lives. On this I will not yield.”

_Gods-dammit_. Cassian didn’t like that at all. It was foolish to immediately disregard any support the Night Court could provide. Their resources were almost immeasurable but it was clear Nesta was unwilling to budge. It was a bad hand, but he didn’t have another one to play. 

“Fine, I won’t willingly involve them at present.” He agreed, a muscle in his eye twitching. “But you must understand that Feyre is already aware of the threat that the Mortal Queens pose. All of the High Lords know. Surely you realize that’s the reason behind the High Lord’s Summit?”

“I know the Queens pose a threat to all of Prythian.” She acknowledged. “I’m just asking to remain separate from my sisters at this time. I don’t want them hurt trying to protect me.”

Cassian and closed his eyes and sighed.

“We’ll stay away. If that’s what it takes to make you agree, we’ll stay away. But if it’s too much, if it becomes clear that we can’t do this on our own, then we need to consider other alternatives.” He opened up his eyes to look at her. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself if there is another option.”

Nesta was silent for a moment as she considered his words. Finally, she nodded her head in agreement. 

“Alright, I can accept those terms. For now, we will do this together.” Nesta agreed and his heart soared at her admission. _Thank the Cauldron._

“No more running from me then? No more secrets? We’re in this together now. You won’t face this on your own anymore.” He clarified. 

Nesta frowned at that.

“I wasn’t alone to begin with. Not really.” She took in his quizzical expression and sighed. “Look, there are some things that I need to share with you. But this arrangement is all very… fresh. I’ve made friends along the way and they’ve helped me out on more than one occasion. I will explain what I know about the Queens, but I’m not going to betray the confidence of my friends. Not without discussing it with them first.”

He thought briefly about arguing then decided against it. He shouldn’t push her too fast, too soon. Nesta could hold her secrets for now. Cassian would uncover them eventually. He decided to switch to a safer topic.

“You don’t have to talk about them now, I’ll wait until you’re more comfortable. Why don’t we start with water winnowing? Will you explain that to me?”

Nesta cocked her head at his question.

“It’s not winnowing. I don’t know how to do that.” She told him, brows furrowing. 

“But you’ve always disappeared in water. Isn’t that the same thing?”

Nesta was about to respond when a siren started to blare in the distance. Cassian’s gaze was immediately drawn to the kitchen window as he tried to determine the source of the sudden commotion. The siren sounded like it was coming from the direction of the Bay. He momentarily froze as realization came crashing in. 

“What can that be?” Nesta asked as she started to rise. 

Cassian was at her side in a heartbeat, guiding her away from the window with a finger against her lips, urging her to remain silent. He would assess the situation as soon as Nesta was safe. He pressed Nesta against the side of the panty, out of sight from the window. 

“Stay here, love.” He whispered in a low voice against her ear.

Nesta’s eyes were wide as she nodded, hands clasped together in fright. Cassian moved to the side of the window and carefully peered out, keeping his moments slow in order to avoid detection from outside threats. Both the sky and ground were clear. He pulled down the shade, blocking the kitchen from prying eyes. 

Cassian silently cursed himself when he realized his weapons were back in the bedroom. He was unarmed and underdressed, completely unprepared for whatever threat was presenting. He motioned for Nesta to remain in place. She frowned but nodded her head in obedience and Cassian shot down the hall back towards the bedroom. 

He ignored his fighting leathers completely, not wanting to waste precious minutes dressing. Cassian secured his Siphons, and then retrieved his twin blades and long sword from the bedside table, choosing to leave the rest of his weapons behind. He strapped the sword in its customary position down his back before stuffing his feet in his boots and lacing them up. Lastly he grabbed Nesta’s soft leather shoes that were sitting abandoned against the wall, likely kicked off sometime overnight. It was important to protect their feet in case they needed to run.

He returned to the kitchen, bending down in front of Nesta to help her slip on her shoes. She was pale with alarm, twisting her hands with nervous energy. 

“What’s going on?” She whispered frantically.

He stood to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, resting his hand on the side of her neck. He leaned into her until there was only a hair’s breadth of space between them. 

“Those sirens are part of the city’s defense system. They tell citizens to seek immediate shelter. It may not be an attack. Multiple things can trigger it, like a weather event…”

“But it’s not the rainy season here.” Nesta finished for him. 

He nodded his head agreement, and then pressed the heavy handle of an Illyrian blade into her palm. Its twin remained secured in the sheath at his hip. Nesta peered down in confusion, her eyes widening in shock when she recognized the weapon in hand. 

“Cassian, what’s this?”

“We’re leaving. I need to know you’re armed in case we’re separated.” He told her as he guided her towards the doorway. “I don’t know what we’re facing out there but stay close, stay quiet, and don’t be afraid to use the knife.”

Nesta somehow paled even further but tilted her head in acknowledgement. He took her hand and led her down the hallway, pausing before the exit. He scanned the outside perimeter through the glass door. Everything was clear. He turned back towards his mate. 

“Do you see that tree to the west of the building?” He asked as he pointed towards the target. It was the same place he had hidden during her failed escape attempt. “When I open the door you’re going to run over there. Stay low.”

He scanned their surroundings one last time, taking an extra moment to check for hidden threats among the rooftops. Once he was satisfied that it was safe to exit, he pushed the door open and gestured for Nesta to go. The blair of the sirens were even louder outside. She gave him one last look then sprinted to the tree. Cassian closely followed behind, keeping his senses open for any signs of threat. The immediate surrounds were clear, but he could make out the distant shouts of men and the occasional sound of steel against steel. 

“Where are the city guards?” Nesta asked when he reached her side, having to raise her voice to be heard over the sirens. He frowned as he glanced towards the Bay. He could see groups fighting towards the waterfront. 

“They’re likely staying close to the palace.” Cassian told her grimly. Even without the need to protect their High Lord, the island was more heavily populated. There wouldn’t be enough guards to go around, so they’d focus their resources on defending the city. Anyone in the outlying settlements would be on their own for the time being. “If we’re lucky the fighting will stay concentrated on the Island.”

Thunder rolled overheard. It was minutes away from storming. It wasn’t ideal to fly in a lighting storm but it was the quickest way out of Adriata. Nesta frowned up at him

“Aren’t we going to help them?”

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything. I’m not properly outfitted and you’re not trained.” He motioned for Nesta to return his blade. “We’re going to fly out of here, away from the fighting. We can’t offer much help and I’m not going to put you at risk.”

Nesta leaned back and kept the blade at her side. It looked like she was about to put up an argument. _Gods-dammit_. They really didn’t have time for this. Adriata already had increased protection thanks to the heightened security for the royal Summit, not to mention the High Lords themselves. There was little they could offer in comparison. Cassian reached out and grabbed Nesta around the waist, pulling her into him. He’d fly her out of here and deal with the fallout once she was safe. 

That was his intention, but the next sound froze him in place and changed everything. A low, screeching roar emerged from over the Bay. Whatever made that sound was big. He instinctually pressed Nesta against the tree trunk, mindful of her blade, and covered her body with his own. He leaned out, searching for the source of the roar. His blood turned cold when he spotted the creature in question.

In the far off distance, making lazy circles above the bay, was an honest-to-Gods wyvern. He hadn’t seen one since he was a boy, when a lone wyvern had taken to picking off Illyrains who wandered too far from his camp. Multiple squadrons of soldiers had been sent to hunt down the threat and an entire year passed before they managed to trap and kill it. 

Even from their distance Cassian could tell the creature was massive, at least fifty feet long from nose to tail. It’s body was the colour of steel, it’s wings nearly the same red of his Siphons. The creature roared again as it continued to circle the water. 

There was no way to safely fly out. Wyverns were fast on and Cassian would be slowed down carrying Nesta. To make a terrible situation worse, the winds started to pick up, sending dead foliage swirling around them. Cassian blinked as a piece of debris blew into his eye. 

“Fuck.” He swore.

Nesta peered around the tree, eyes locking on the leviathan. She jerked back in horror and Cassian could practically taste the fear that radiated off of her. 

“They found me.” She breathed, half to herself. 

_What?_

“ _Who_ found you?” He demanded.

“The Queen’s dogs. I know they’ve been scrying for me, but I thought I’d have more time…”

“ _Who’s_ been scrying for you?”

Nesta looked up into his eyes, throat bobbing.

“The witches. The witches that work for the Mortal Queens. They’ve hunted for me in the past, and now they’re here.” She said with a jerk of her head towards the Wyvern. “They’ve found me.”

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

_Outside of Cassian’s safe house_

_The Summer Court_

The shock of seeing the Wyvern snapped Nesta out of her stupor, igniting a call to action in her veins. She couldn’t allow herself to fall under the witch’s clutches, not again. She knew with absolute certainty that the head of the coven rode the wyvern. _Mother above_ , Nesta thought she’d have more time before the witches came for her. She’d been in Adriata just under one full day. They had never found her this quickly in the past.

Cassian, who was still pressing her into the tree, startled at Nesta’s confession. He looked like he was seriously considering tossing her over his shoulder and making a break for it, but that would only draw the wyvern’s attention. It was still over the bay, but in a matter of minutes the witch would narrow in on her location. 

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.” she warned him. “You can’t fly us out of here, not without it seeing you.”

“I know.” He told her and shuddered slightly. 

Nesta was curious about his knowledge of wyvern, but all of that would have to wait. She would ask him later, hopefully when they were thousands of kilometers away. Lightning streaked across the sky and the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. 

“They have my blood, so it’s only a matter of minutes before they figure out my location.”

That pulled Cassian out of his reverie. 

“They have your _blood_? How did they manage that?” He asked her, aghast. 

“It’s a long story for another time. I need you to focus, are there any pools around here? Fountains? Anything similar?”

“Not in the immediate vicinity.” Cassian had to raise his voice to be heard over the rising winds. “I picked the apartment furthest away from water features.”

_Fuck._ Of _course_ he did _._ Nesta pressed her lips together as considered her options. It was probably best to make a run for it. The witches had a singular goal: to capture Nesta for the Mortal Queens. They weren’t here for a direct attack on the city, but they’d have no issues killing innocent fae during their hunt. The sooner Nesta left the Summer Court, the sooner the witches would return to whatever hell they crawled out of, leaving Adriata to heal in private. Regardless of what happened next, Nesta needed to leave the Summer Court. 

“We need to head towards the bay and hope we get lucky.” Nesta shouted to Cassian over the raging winds.

“I’ll get you down to the water and hold them off. They won’t get their hands on you.” Cassian vowed.

The rain began to freely fall, signaling the arrival of the thunderstorm. Cassian ran his up hand from her waist until it rested on the side of her face, brushing a drop of rain off of her brow. He was looking as if memorizing every line of her face. She didn’t like what that implied. Nesta placed her free hand over his, stilling the movement. 

“I told you we were in this together. It wasn’t a lie. Just get us both to a water source and I will do the rest.”

He nodded solemnly, and refocused his attention on the scene down by the bay. Cassian took a step back and withdrew the long sword, his gaze firmly locked on the battle before them. The sounds of distant fighting seemed to be growing over the mounting storm. Were they getting closer? Nesta adjusted the heavy weight of the Illyrian blade in her palm, telling herself she would attack anyone who got past Cassian’s defenses. She didn’t trust her control of magic enough to use on a populated city street. Nesta was fearful of hitting an innocent bystander. 

“We’re in this together.” Cassian promised with a crooked grin. “It’s almost two miles to the water. We’re going to hurry, but try to conserve your energy for when we need it. Stay low, and don’t let anyone touch you. Ready, Sweetheart?”

Nesta nodded and stepped beside him, prepared to follow his lead. Cassian hefted his long sword in a defensive position and gestured for her to follow. They hustled along the city streets, sticking close to buildings and storefronts, trying to remain a small target to anyone above. The passed the occasional fae running in the opposite direction, escaping the fighting on the shoreline, but the streets remained relatively clear. Thunder crashed overheard and the skies finally opened up in a heavy deluge. 

Shielding her eyes from the rain, Nesta kept a close watch on the wyvern that continued to circle over the bay. She’d assume it would have drifted closer to them by now. Perhaps the witch wasn’t able to determine her precise location, or maybe they were waiting for Nesta to come to them. Either way, Nesta took no comfort that its flight path remained unchanged. The rain had stalled their progress a little as it was difficult to make good time in a rainstorm. They were about halfway when Cassian directed Nesta to take cover under an awning. 

“It looks like there is fighting five blocks ahead.” He yelled over the thunder and rain. “We should head east for a few blocks, to see if we can bypass it. Let’s rest here a minute to catch our breath.”

She was pretty sure the break was solely for her benefit but Nesta was quick to agree as she shivered in the freezing rain. The downpour had plastered her hair and clothing against her body, The icy wind cut right through her. Though he was still bare-chested with the rain gleaming off his Illyrian tattoos, Cassian looked impervious to the cold. Maybe growing up in the Illyrian mountains made him unfazed by the conditions. He kept his attention locked on the fighting ahead of them and stayed in front of her, shielding her from sight. Nesta gave herself another thirty seconds before signaling her willingness to move on. 

Cassian glanced over her as he moved them east through the intersection. 

“Will you be able to winnow in the cold?” 

“It’s not winnowing.” She reminded him. “And we’ll only be in the cold for a moment. I”ll take us somewhere warm.”

“Going to take me on vacation, Sweetheart?” He asked over his shoulder with a smile in his voice. 

Cassian’s demeanor changed as soon as he saw the expression on her face. He spun to face the new threat before them. 

There, in the middle of the street, stood a solitary woman.

“Hello, Nesta.” Crooned the witch in a lyrical voice. “We’ve been looking for you.” 

  
  


~

Cassian reacted immediately, his muscles tensing as he took a defensive position in front of Nesta. The shriveled woman was around fifty human years of age. Her clothes themself were peasant garb; a simple tunic over breeches. Her white hair was long and unbraided, the wind blowing her wet locks away from her gaunt face. Atop her head sat a headdress of sun bleached bones, adorned with teeth and laced together with black ribbons. Nesta wasn’t sure if the bones were human or animal and wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. Apart from her morbid headdress, there was nothing about this woman to suggest that she was anything other than human. Nesta knew better. 

This woman was a witch. 

Nesta cast a quick glance at the Wyvern, which remained in flight above the bay. Nesta was certain that the lead witch commanded the wyvern. She’d never come face to face with this particular witch before. Still, she knew not to underestimate the creature before them. 

“Let us pass, woman. And I’ll let you walk away with your head.” Cassian warned in a low voice. 

The witch grinned.

“Have you stooped to needing the protection of a male, Nesta?” She asked in that strange musical voice, disregarding Cassian completely. “I must admit, that disappoints me”

He shifted his weight as he hefted his sword, focused intently on the threat before them. He was waiting for his chance to strike, unwilling to risk a direct assault on a witch with unknown powers. Nesta may not be an expert on the dark magic, but she knew this woman was still mortal. She would die from a blade as easily as any human. The real question was what damage could her spells weave before Cassian could land a killing blow. 

Nesta took three steps to her right. Cassian, who must have felt the movement rather than seen it, also stepped to the right.

“I require no male for protection.” Nesta told her coldly as she took another soft step to her right. 

The witch tilted her head as she considered Nesta’s words. 

“Does he not belong to you, then?” She asked as she gave Cassian a lingering glance. “Perhaps I’ll keep him to warm my bed. After I present you to the Mortal Queens.”

“You’re not my type, hag.” He sneered. 

Nesta took another half step, edging away from Cassian’s side. 

The witch finally turned her attention to the seething Illryrian. She smiled at him, her teeth yellowed and broken, and tilted her head at Cassian. The bones dangling from her headdress clattered together in the wind, creating an almost musical sound. Nesta shuddered. 

“What you want, _boy_ , is of no concern to me. It would take no effort to enchant and bend you to my will. You would believe my lips would taste of the sweetest honey, and die begging for more.”

Cassian tensed up and Nesta knew intrinsically that he was preparing to strike out. Fear shot through Nesta’s veins. _What if the witch got to him first?_ Nesta took a final step away from Cassian’s side and snapped out her hand, flinging the Illyrian blade towards the nameless woman. Nesta’s aim was true, the blade slicing into her abdominal. The witch fell to her knees and began to screech, both of hands clutching her stomach as a red stain blossomed out on her tunic. Cassain wasted no time as strode over to the witches side. He brought down his sword on her neck, cleaving her head from her body. 

“ _Cauldron boil me_.” Gasped Nesta, bringing her hand to cover her mouth.

She hit her. She _actually_ hit her. Nesta didn’t practise with blades nearly as often as she should. Throwing the knife was an entirely desperate act. Nesta hoped to distract the witch at best, granting Cassian a few precious seconds of distraction so he could make his move. It was more luck than anything that the knife stuck true. Cassian toed the head for a moment. Then, content that the woman was no longer a threat, he leaned back and delivered a powerful kick. The head went flying down the street, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Nesta’s stomach heaved at the sight. 

“Are you okay?” He asked in a low voice. 

Nesta tore her gaze away from the decapitated head to meet his stare. He’d lost his hair tie at some point of their flight, his long hair hung in loose waves, framing his face. He bent down and pulled his blade from the corpse’s torso, wiping the blood on the dead woman's tunic, before resheathing it as his side. Cassian surveyed her as he returned to her side, missing nothing. 

“Are you okay?” he prodded again. 

She dropped the hand from her mouth and nodded her head, not quite trusting herself to talk. Cassian frowned and placed his larger hand on the nape of her neck.

“I need you to hold it together a few more minutes, okay? We don’t know how much time we have before her friend’s come looking for her”.

That comment stuck home. The witch was most certainly not alone. Perhaps they were discovered as a fluke, but the witches’s sisters were sure to follow shortly. It was pure luck that they killed her so quickly. The others wouldn’t be careless. Nesta squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, settling herself. 

“We have to get out of here, right now.” she breathed. 

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched and he slid his arms down between her shoulders, turning them to face the bay. The wyvern was closer to the palace now, screeching as it swooped down. Were the High Lords mounting an attack on the wyvern? It may give them the edge they need to fly down to the bay. 

“How long would it take you to fly us down?” She asked, her voice almost drowned out by the thunder rolling overhead. 

“A minute, two minutes top. Are you willing to risk it?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Nesta told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“If you’re looking for an opportunity to get back in my arms,” Cassian said as scooped her up, “next time, Sweetheart, just ask.”

Before Nesta could begin to think of a retort Cassian had launched them off the ground and shot towards the bay. Her stomach somersaulted as he plunged forward at a much faster speed than the previous night’s flight. Her hair whipped around her face, stinging her, but she forced her eyes open. Cassian stayed low along the roofs of the buildings, which blurred together as they raced on by. 

“What happens when we reach the water?” Cassian yelled in her ear, struggling to be heard above the roaring wind. 

“Just dive. You don’t need to go too deep.” She called back, blinking rainwater out of her eyes. 

They were almost above the bay when the wyvern’s head pulled up and turned to face their direction. _She knows we’re here_ , Nesta thought in a panic. Sure enough, it broke away from the island and started to head right for them. 

“Hold on!” Cassian screamed. 

They were one hundred meters away, ninety, eightly, seventy...

The wyvern, or it’s rider, must have realized Cassian was going to reach the water first. The massive creature doubled down, launching towards them in a desperate attempt to cut off their escape. Heart in her throat, Nesta squeezed Cassian and tried to swallow down her scream, terrified she would distract him. Just when she was certain they wyvern had them, Cassian yanked in his wings and twisted their bodies until they were plumitting downwards towards the bay. Nesta drew in half a breath before they plunged in the frigid water. The dive wasn’t clean, they hit the surface at an awkward angle and pain laced down the side of her body. Still, she managed to hold on as they were swept away by the current. Cassian clung to her with one hand while his other circled wildly, instinctively trying to push them towards the surface. 

Nesta tightened her grip and wrapped her legs around his waist. She closed her eyes and stretched out, feeling the magic rush through her veins. Nesta gathered her power, conjuring every trace that she could find, and encased them with her magic. Once she had called in everything to her, Nesta opened her eyes and pushed it _out_. Her magic exploded and her field of vision was bathed in silver. The current abruptly changed direction and Nesta was ripped out of Cassian’s arms. 

Panicking, she looked around as the brackish, mukey bay transformed into a crystal clear water. Nesta peered up and could see rays of sun streaming down from a cloudless sky. She gave two quick kicks and broke the surface of the water. Drawing a clean breath, she circled her arms to keep afloat while she searched for Cassian. He was still underwater, about three meters away. Nesta dived back under and swam to him, folded an arm around his torso, and kicked back towards the surface. 

Cassian coughed wildly as he clung to Nesta. She half dragged him over to the side of the pool, placing his arm on the deck for support. 

“We’re safe. You’re safe.” She assured him as she circled his back. 

He coughed one last time then laid his head on the side of the pool, cracking open one eye to stare at her.

“Let’s never do that again, okay?” He told her in a horse voice. 

Nesta laughed despite herself and pushed herself out of the pool. She stayed on the side of the deck to help pull the waterlogged Illyrian onto dry land. He collapsed on his back and threw an arm over his face to shade his eyes from the sun, his legs still dangling in the water. He groaned slightly and Nesta bit back a smile.

“I thought that was your idea of a good time?” She asked, the side of her mouth twitching up.

“Sweetheart, if you thought that was fun, you’re going to be blown away but the things I’m going to show you.” He told her. 

He sighed and dropped his hands to his side, pushing up until he was propped up beside her. He frowned as he looked around at their new surroundings. The pool was in the middle of an intricate garden, surrounded by low lying shrubbery that would eventually lead towards a hedge maze on the southern end of the property. A large private estate sat to the distant north. Cassian blinked as he stared at the home, it was as if he somewhat recognized their location but couldn’t quite place it. She bit her lip, nervously wondering if he was about to put things together on his own. Before Nesta had a chance to start explaining the situation, their attention was drawn to the sound of footsteps coming up from behind. They both twisted around to meet their new companion, and Cassian’s mouth dropped open. 

“Oh, child.” Bemoaned Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, “What trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've basically spent the past week sick in bed. (◕︵◕) Thankfully chapter 4 was finished beforehand, or I would have been scrambling to meet my weekly deadline. 
> 
> I wanted to again thank you for taking the time to comment or send kudos. You do not understand how motivating it is to receive them. There is no describing how exciting it is to see a message in my in-box, so never hesitate to leave a comment. Tell me what you like about the story or what you would like to see happen. Or even just gush about the upcoming release of ACOSF.
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The High Lord of Day_


	5. The High Lord of Day

~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

  
  


“Oh, child. What trouble did you get yourself into this time?” Lamented Helion Spell-Cleaver.

Nesta’s mouth pulled into a tight frown as she met Helion’s disapproving gaze. The High Lord of Day was outfitted in his customary toga, the ivory fabric cutting an exquisite contrast against his shimmering skin. Helion tilted his head at Nesta, crossing muscular arms over his chest as he waited for her response. She had thought he was still at the High Lord’s meeting in Adriata and assumed they would have total privacy in his home. Apparently that was not the case. Nesta wanted a few hours to put her thoughts in order before trying to explain the complicated mess that was the past three years to Cassian. 

Clearly, that wasn’t meant to be. 

For a fleeting moment Nesta fantasized about dropping back into the pool and shifting away from the Day Court entirely, if only to spare herself the upcoming headache. Helion lifted a brow as if he somehow knew the truth of her thoughts. Sighing, Nesta shook off that particular daydream and pushed into a standing position. She wouldn’t readily abandon Cassian after her promise to him. Besides, who knows exactly what details Helion would reveal the moment her back was turned. 

If Cassian was surprised by Helion’s involvement, he managed to keep it off of his face. Still, it was clear that the Illyrian wasn’t pleased to realize the High Lord of Day had been involved with her situation. Cassian’s face hardened as he assessed the older male. 

“You knew.” Growled Cassian. “All this time Feyre had been searching for Nesta, not knowing if she was lying dead in a ditch, and _you knew_ where she was.”

Helion merely tilted his head at Cassian, completely unfazed by the anger radiating off of the Illyrian. 

“Yes, I did.” Helion responded coolly. “Not only did I know about Nesta’s whereabouts, I happily provided her with asylum these many years.”

Cassian took half a step towards Helion, hands clenched into fists at his side. 

“She _lived_ here? All this time? And it never once occurred to you to send word to the Night Court? If only to let Feyre know that her sister was safe and cared for? How _arrogant_ must you be. Do you honestly believe that you could repeatedly lie to Rhysand and suffer no retribution?”

Helion let out a low laugh as Nesta stood frozen stock-still between the males. She assumed Cassian wouldn’t be pleased to learn of Helion’s involvement but didn’t expect outright hostility. She was wondering how to deescalate the situation when Helion spoke next. 

“I have nothing to apologize for. What is my great crime? Ignoring a missive? They lost all of their rights to Nesta the moment they banished her from the Night Court. If Nesta Archeron is not beholden to Night then _I_ am not required to answer any of their inquiries.” His amber eyes flashed to Nesta. “It was her choice to remove herself from her sister's lives. I merely followed her wishes. So, no. I have nothing to apologize for when it comes to my actions.”

 _This is off to a terrible start,_ Nesta thought apprehensively. She needed to rein in the males before their squabble escalated into something more serious. Cassian was still agitated from the previous confrontation and she didn’t want him taking it out on the High Lord of Day. Helion’s support throughout the years had been invaluable. Nesta didn’t want to reward his assistance with a fight at his front door, especially considering it was Nesta who requested his confidentiality in the first place.

 _I need to shut this down_. She sighed and rubbed her eyes as a headache blossomed behind her temples. She gave Cassian’s bicep and reassuring squeeze and then headed towards the decorative trunk towards the end of the pool. She opened the lid and withdrew two towels, throwing one over her shoulder before holding out the second for Cassian. 

“Can we just take a step back for a moment?” She asked him. “I know you want answers, but you need to understand that Helion has been nothing but supportive. I don’t know where’d I be if it wasn’t for him.”

Cassian shot Helion one last glower before giving his attention back to Nesta. His face softened as he took in her countenance. He nodded as he accepted the towel, drying the ends of his hair. Apparently he decided to simply ignore the High Lord’s presence. 

Nesta tossed Helion a look, silently pleading with him to maintain the peace if only for the sake of her sanity. She’d been imprisoned, essentially kidnapped by Cassian, and had to fight her way out of a secondary abduction attempt by much more hostile adversaries. The past twenty-four hours had been straining and she needed time to recuperate. Helion nodded in agreement before running a scrutinizing eye over the pair. 

“It's clear that much has happened since we last spoke. I have many questions for you, but as your host I feel it's my duty to offer you both a chance to refresh before then.” Helion announced. 

_Thank the mother._ Nesta would kill for an actual bath right now.

“Will you show Cassian to the guest house? You can freshen up before joining me for lunch on the terrace. We’ll talk at that time.” Helion’s gaze fell to Cassian’s bare chest and he added. “I’ll have one of the servants bring up a change of clothing for you. “

Cassian remained ridgid, clearly unhappy with the High Lord, but he held his tongue and instead nodded his head in a show of gratitude. 

“I’ll take him now, but afterwards may I have a moment of your time?” Nesta asked Helion as she gently took Cassian’s arm. 

“Of course. I’ll meet you at the main house in ten minutes.” Helion told, his neutral expression doing little to mask the curiosity in his eyes. 

Nesta suspected that he was unaware of the attack on Adriata since Helion was already in the Day Court before their arrival. She felt that it was her duty to warn him. His first priority would always to his people. Helion would want to ensure everyone back at the palace was safe. Her problems would hold after everything else has been resolved. 

Nesta gently tugged Cassian away and he followed without hesitation, pressing himself close to her side. He was generating intoxicating body heat and Nesta fought off the urge to lean into his warmth. 

“So, you’ve been staying with Heloin?” He asked once they were out of earshot.

“Part of the time.” She admitted equivocally. If Cassian wasn’t happy with Helion then he _definitely_ wouldn’t be happy when he learned of her other accomplices. “He’s warded this estate against scrying. The witches can’t find me here and I’ve come to think of it as my own personal safe haven.”

Cassian studied her out of the corner of his eye but elected to remain silent. It's clear that he had questions but, thankfully, decided to delay the interrogation. The Illyrian could be infuriatingly single-minded when something intrigued him, she’d been on the receiving end of that more times than she could count. He’d been fascinated with Nesta since the moment they met, never shy about desire to learn everything about her. Perhaps he read the weariness on her face and decided his curiosity could wait. 

The unoccupied guest house was a quick walk away. Despite Helion’s outgoing manner, very few fae were invited back to his private estate. The High Lord assured her this practice was established long before she entered his life. It worked out well since Nesta often appeared without prior warning. If the wrong person were to witness her arrival they would lose the clandestinity they worked so hard to maintain. The estate housed a few trusted staff members but they didn’t service the guest house unless specifically requested. Cassian would have all the privacy he needed. 

“You can stay here tonight.” Nesta told him as she showed him the suite on the main level. 

The suite was designed in a decidedly masculine style which, she privately mused, suited Cassian perfectly. The furniture was well crafted with simple lines, constructed out of hardwood and rich leathers. The brick walls were whitewashed, contrasted beautifully with exposed ceiling trusses. He walked into the middle of the room, giving it an appraising eye. His trousers, still damp from the dip in the pool, had moulded to him like a second skin. She did her best to keep her eye line at a respectable level.

“Each suite has its own bathroom and the linen closet should have everything you need to wash up. Can you think of anything else that you need? Achava is the head of staff and he can find just about anything you can think of. He’ll probably be here with a change of clothes any minute now.”

Nesta had no idea why she was rambling on like a nitwit. She wasn’t usually so unsure of herself but Cassian had a tendency to throw her off her guard. He sat down on the large bed and levelled his gaze at her, choosing to ignore her blithering.

“There is a large part of me that doesn’t want to let you walk out that door. Everything inside of me is screaming to not let you go.”

Nesta swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The way he was looking at her right now - like a man possessed - sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her. The soft morning light filtering into the windows accentuated the hard planes and dips of his body. His hair was loose, curling around his face and shoulders. Gods, she wanted to tangle her fingers in that hair. Cassian was a tall male and Nesta longed to use his hair to drag him down to her level. She wanted to make him _beg._

“I told you I wouldn’t run away this time.” She reminded him softly, trying to shake away those thoughts.

“That’s not what I mean.” Cassian replied, voice rough.

 _Oh, mother save me,_ Nesta thought as her heart leapt into her throat. This is exactly where she thought they were heading last night, before she made the absolutely useless decision to run. She was ridiculously thankful he was sitting down, a good five meters away from her. If he was closer, if he was right in front of her, where she could reach out and touch him…

“I need to speak to Helion. He’s expecting me.” Nesta explained quickly, her voice a too loud. “I’ll meet you in the garden in one hour” 

Then Nesta slipped out the door before she did something she might regret. 

  
  


~

Helion was waiting outside of the main manor. He stood near the side entrance and watched her make her way up the winding path, raising a single brow in insinuation.

“I wasn’t sure how much time you needed with your Illyrian.” He told her, lips curled in amusement. “But I’d assumed he’d take longer than that.”

Nesta felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She had gotten close to Helion over the past few years and at some point had begun to view him as a father figure. So, naturally, there was absolutely no way she was continuing this conversion with him. 

“I disappear from Tarquin’s dungeon and _that’s_ the first question you think to ask” She scoffed. 

“It was hardly the dungeon, Sweetling.” Helion reminded her affectionately. “At first I assumed you made it without our assistance but then you didn’t show up here. When I couldn’t find you at our mutual friend’s home I began to worry. I began to fret that the witches had managed to track you down.”

“They did, actually.” Nesta admitted with a shiver. “Cassian helped me escape the palace. We were together when the witches arrived in the Summer Court. That’s why I brought him here. We escaped by the skin of our teeth.” 

Helion paused her with a hard to her shoulder, alarm clear on his face. 

“They found you? Did they get their hands on you? Were you hurt in any way?” 

“I’m fine. They didn’t touch me, didn’t even get close.” It was a minor lie but she didn’t want Helion fussing over her. “There was fighting in the city. I assume they brought the Mortal Queen’s troops with them. And Helion, there was a wyvern.”

The High Lord of Day’s eyes widened in horror. 

“They mostly circled over the Bay, so I assumed it was lying in wait for me. But it flew around the palace a few times. I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that the High Lords had tried to engage it in battle”

Helion’s gaze went cold. 

“I’d better return to Adriata immediately. Tarquin is aware that I returned home last night, but I’d like to make sure no one was hurt in the fallout.”

Nesta nodded, expecting this reaction. Helion was a good leader and cared greatly for his people. His first priority was always the greater good, no matter the personal sacrifice. Nesta could trust that Helion would do the right thing, that was why she cared for him so much. 

“I’ll see if I can be of any assistance. The Summit broke for the morning to ‘ _deal with security matters_ ’, I believe was the reasoning,” Helion said with an innocent expression, as if he wasn’t the very source of Tarquin’s security leak to begin with. “I’ll try not to linger at the palace because I have many questions on what you got up to last night.”

With no further ado, Helion winnowed away and left Nesta standing alone outside the manor.

“You and everyone else, apparently.” Nesta sighed to no one in particular. 

And with that out of the way, Nesta sought out her private chambers in order to clean herself up. 

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Cassian**

  
  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

Cassian had spent the better part of the past hour fighting against his own instincts to return to Nesta’s side. He knew, intellectually, that she would honour her promise to remain but he was unable to fully relax until he saw her once again. He’d spent three years chasing after her and it was a hard habit to break. Still, Cassian would give Nesta the space she asked for. He needed to earn her trust. In the meantime he’d distracted himself with bathing, telling himself it was important to remain inviting to his mate. Cassian wouldn’t act further on those particular urges, of course, but he would use every tool in his arsenal to convince Nesta to keep him close. 

Helion’s valet brought up several clothing options, including shirts specifically tailored for winged fae. Cassian selected a pair of close-fitting black trousers and a white button-up shirt. His boots remained waterlogged but there was little he could do about it for the time being. He twisted his hair into a bun and tied it back with a piece of leather he found in the bathroom. That had been twenty minutes ago and there was little else to keep him occupied while he waited for Nesta. 

He headed outside, deciding to wait for her in the garden. Cassian could focus on discovering Nesta’s past now that she was safely away from any direct threats. Her safety was his main priority and he needed to know all facts pertaining to her situation. How did Helion become involved? Were the Mortal Queens looking for something other than revenge? Just what steps must he take to ensure Nesta’s total protection? Everything else - everything _personal_ \- could wait until a later time. 

At least that is what Cassian told himself as he roamed the grounds, keeping half an eye on the manor. He wanted Nesta - he’d _always_ want Nesta - but it was the wrong time to become distracted by the slight female. The temptation to finally claim her was overwhelming. It had taken all his years of military discipline to remain seated away when he scented her arousal. Cassian knew, without a shadow of a doubt, if he acted on those instincts they wouldn’t be leaving that room for hours. Not until they were both heavily sated, Helion be damned. 

_This is not the time to be thinking these thoughts,_ Cassian growled to himself as he tugged at the fabric of his groin. Gods, Nesta's mere presence had bewitched him. He was acting no better than an untested whelp and needed to start thinking with his brain instead of his cock. 

“Oh, there you are.” Nesta’s voice drifted down to him, pulling him from his reverie. 

Cassian turned to face her and all other thoughts flew out of his head. Like Cassian, Nesta had used the time to bathe and change into a fresh outfit. She was adorned in an ivory coloured tea-length dress, reminiscent of Day Court fashion. The gown itself was relatively modest, the neckline dipping just low enough to reveal the uppermost swells of her breasts. He dragged his line of sight up to her face and found that she left her hair unbraided. The sides were gathered back in two gold combs, the lengths spilling over the shoulders in glossy waves. She looked like a creature of the Day Court. She looked like a Goddess. 

“Nesta,” he began, his voice much deeper than usual, “you look beautiful.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly at the complement and Cassian’s mouth went dry. How did he ever _think_ he’d possess the strength to keep his hands off her? She reached his side and looked almost.. _shy?_ Nesta had acted uncustomarily bashful earlier in his room and it appeared that her time away was not enough to rebuild her usual shields. Or maybe she chose not to. Either way, this change of demeanour was certainly intriguing. 

“Will Helion be joining us in the garden?” He asked her, noting that her eyes were almost steel gray in the mid-morning sun.

“No, he went back to Adriata to check on his people. He’ll be back as soon as possible, but we’re alone at the moment.”

Cassian savoured that particular piece of information. Alone in a garden with his beautiful mate? It was almost more than he hoped for. He chivalrously offered Nesta his elbow, biting back a grin when she immediately took it and pressed herself to his side. Gods, she was soft. And small. He suspected his hands could span the entity of her waist and he knew how little effort it took to lift her. The things he could do to her... Clearing his throat, he quickly cut off that line of thought before it got him into trouble. 

“I never had the chance to say it earlier, but thank you.” He murmured.

Nesta’s brows furrowed quizzically.

“What do you have to thank me for?” She asked him, stopping in the middle of the pathway. 

“Thank you for choosing me. I know that you didn’t have to. I need you to know how much this means to me, that you would grant me the opportunity to help you.”

Her alluring face softened as she peered up through heavy lashes. She bit her lower lip and her gaze dropped to the ground. Her throat bobbed and he’d come to the realization that this innocuous subject had somehow dismayed her. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want your help,” she spoke up after a moment, “it’s just that… What if you’re hurt helping me? I’d never forgive myself.”

Cassian felt his brows shoot up into his hairline. Nesta was worried that _he’d_ be hurt? Was that a joke? It was such an unexpected concept that he had to swallow down a laugh, less he invoke her wrath. He placed a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up, finding her eyes brimmed with tears. Clearly he’d hit upon the root of her apprehension. He frowned, recalling Nesta’s behaviour after the war with Hybern. It was becoming apparent that her battle fatigue wasn’t a distant memory after all. Obviously she was still influenced by her fears. Cassian assumed that she ran to solely protect her sisters and never thought to include himself in that equation. He took her hand within his own, running a soothing thumb across her wrist. 

“You’re one of the smartest females that I know, so I’m not going to placate you with falsities. There is always a risk to what we do. I know that better than most. But Sweetheart, you have to understand that I’ve been in the military for over half a millennia. I’m the _last_ male you need to worry over.” He promised. 

Nesta frowned slightly and tugged her wrists free. Instead of pulling away like he assumed she would, Nesta stepped closer and ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders before lacing them behind his back. Cassian remained motionless, fearing any little movement would frighten her away. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest. 

“I always worry about you.” Nesta admitted softly.

Cassian closed her eyes at her confession, savouring her declaration. He lowered his head until she was neatly tucked under his chin. She smelled faintly of jasmine and he resisted the urge to bury his nose in her hair. 

Throwing caution into the wind, Cassian pulled Nesta into a tighter embrace and, against all odds, she let him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, simply basking in each other’s presences. Nesta pulled back after a moment, her cheeks pink with a hint of embarrassment. He was well aware that his mate was uncomfortable displaying her vulnerability. He felt privileged that she would opened up to him. 

Feeling a bit more daring, Cassian pulled Nesta into his side and they continued to stroll through the garden. The only sound was the humming of insects and the distant wobble of a songbird. _This is the first time I’ve felt at peace in years,_ he realized with a light chuckle. Nesta glanced up at him at the sounds, the tips of her lips curling upwards.

“Since we have some downtime, would you like to see my favourite part of the garden?” 

“ _You_ have a favourite place in the garden?” He asked, mildly surprised by the abrupt change of topic. 

He never suspected that Nesta shared her younger sister's love of nature. Cassian wasn’t overly engrossed by the prospect of gardening and paid little attention to flowers. His knowledge was more along the lines of determining what types of native plants were safe for consumption. Still, he was eager to learn any minor detail about his mate. If Nesta loved a particular variety of rose then he would ensure that she always had a bouquet at hand. 

Nesta was quiet as she guided him past the pool and into the hedge maze. They didn’t move too far into the labyrinth, stopping just inside the towering shrubbery that marked the start of the maze. It was the equivalent of an antechamber with three separate passageways leading into the heart of the maze. One to the right, one to the left, and one slightly off-centred. A decorative park bench was placed across from each entryway. Nesta took a seat on the leftmost bench, her hands folded on her lap as she gazed up at him. He gave her a soft smile as he lowered down next to her. 

“This is the spot you were telling me about?”

Nesta made a noise of affirmation as she nodded towards a small grouping of blue flowers. 

“Do you see those flowers? They’re called cornflowers and they’re Elain’s favourite. Whenever I’m feeling homesick I come out here to see the flowers. They remind me of my sister. They remind me of my purpose here and, maybe it's silly, but I feel a little closer to them afterwards.”

His heart dipped at her revelation. Cassian never really considered how the estrangement would affect Nesta on her end. Or, at most, he assumed she had suffered a lot less. It was a foolish assumption. Nesta would always put herself last, regardless of personal sacrifice. His throat bobbed as he pondered the slight female before him. She had never ceased to amaze him. 

“You’re not alone anymore.” Cassian reminded her.

Blue-grey eyes flicked up to meet his. 

“I know.” She whispered. “And despite how we arrived at this point, I’m glad you’re here, too. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”

 _Fuck it._ Fuck the mortal queens, the witches, the High Lords of Prythina. Fuck all of them. The only thing that mattered was the female beside him. She was safe. They were together. The outside world could wait another day. Nesta drew his closest hand into her lap, her fingers lightly tracing the tattoo which swirled down his arm. He was quiet, content to watch the small female at his side. 

Since he was a child, Cassian understood that he was lowborn and therefore unworthy of the time or attention of his betters. And being an Illyrian bastard meant that _everyone_ was above him. Then the cauldron, with its caustic sense of humour, had bonded him to a Highborn lady. Deep down he harboured the fear that Nesta would reject him based on his birth status. Maybe he was good enough for a quick fuck, but not much else. Yet, as he watched her trace featherlight designs on his arm, he felt himself begin to hope.

“Can I touch you?” He asked in a rough voice.

Nesta bit her plush lower lip and he cursed himself for being too presumptuous, but then she astonished him by nodding her head in permission. Cassian’s hands fell to her waist and he tugged her closer, pulling her across his lap. Nesta tentatively threaded her arms around his shoulders, resting her hands just above his wings. He gently cupped her face with one hand and pushed the hair off of her neck with the other. 

He lightly traced a line from her neck to her shoulder, drawing gooseflesh in his wake. Nesta shivered. She was responsive to his touch, this little mate of his. He wanted to see what other types of reactions he could draw from her. 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he confessed, “but Sweetheart, I will stop myself the minute you’re unsure or uncomfortable. Just say the word.”

Nesta didn’t respond, choosing instead to tangle her hands in his hair as she pulled his mouth down to meet hers. It was all the encouragement he needed as he leaned into the kiss. Her soft lips were everything he had imagined and they quickly opened up under his probing tongue. He felt her shudder as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasing her. Playing with her. 

She moaned softly and he fisted the back of her dress to drag her closer until there was no longer any space between them. He relished the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest. _Cauldron boil him_ , he’d loved those breasts since the first time he saw her. Had spent an embarrassing amount of nights fantasizing about all the different ways to bring her pleasure if given the opportunity. Those former plans went out the window now that Neata was in his arms. He was moving purely on instinct. 

Nesta shifted around on his lap until she was straddling him, her legs hugging him close. Cassian pulled his mouth away from hers in order to pay homage to the delicate column of her neck. Nesta’s head dropped back under his attention, freely offering herself to his ministrations. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as she became lost in sensation. Cassian nipped her at her throat, gently bruising the delicate skin, and Nesta whimpered in response. 

“Does this feel good, Sweetheart?” He whispered into her ear. “Do you want more?”

She lazily nodded her head in approval, a low whine rising from the back of her throat as she undulated on his lap. Cassian nipped her neck in admonition.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, love. I can’t hear you.” He taunted.

“Don’t stop. _Please_ don’t stop.” She pleaded breathlessly. “I want you, Cass.”

In all the ways he’d picture Nesta calling him that, he’d never imagined it would happen in a moment of passion. Something in him snapped at the throaty utterance of his nickname. Cassian flipped them over until Nesta was pinned underneath him, one palm under her head to protect her from the unyielding concrete bench. Nesta arched into him, clutching his back so tightly she was likely drawing blood. He didn’t care, he would wear her marks with pride. 

Cassian was in the midst of slipping a hand between her thighs when the sound of a snapping branch caught his attention. He was up and off of her in less than a second, his wings unfurled protectively in front of Nesta, his teeth bared aggressively. He was half a second from striking out at the intruder when he realized it was Helion. The High Lord of Day stood twenty feet away, standing in the outermost entrance to the hedge maze and looking as equally startled. His golden eyes widened as he took a reflexive step away from the pair. Helion lifted his hands in the air, as if to show he offered no threat.

“It’s just me.” Helion told him carefully. 

Cassian could hear the ruffling of fabric from behind as Nesta straightened her gown. He stretched out his wings even further to ensure her privacy, and issued a low snarl to the fae who dared to stare in the direction of his female. A muscle in the High Lord’s jaw twitched at the blatant sign of aggression but Helion let it go without comment. 

“I’ve returned from Adriata and arranged to have a luncheon served on the patio. But I see that I’ve come at a bad time.” His eyes flicked over Cassian’s shoulder, to where Nesta peeked over a wing. “I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself but I expect to see you both in the next ten minutes”

The High Lord promptly turned on his heel and left, giving them privacy to collect themselves. Satisfied that they were truly alone, Cassian turned around to face Nesta. She was still dishevelled, her lips swollen and red from his kisses, he noted with a swell of male pride. Nesta’s brows were near her hairline as she studied the archway where Helion had departed. A bubble of laughter escaped his mate she threw a hand over her mouth. 

“ _Oh,_ _my Gods._ Did that really just happen? I guess that's what it feels like to be caught by a parent.” She laughed. 

The last bit of tension left his body as he surveyed his mate. It struck him that he’d never seen her so carefree. Nesta’s cheeks were red with mirth and her eyes sparkled with laughter. He grinned as he approached her, running a hand over her hair to smooth down her tousled locks. “You really do care for Helion, don’t you?” 

Nesta’s smile faded a little. Her eyes became unfocused as she looked off in the distance.

“I didn’t lie when I said Helion has been supportive. He’s been, well..” she paused for a moment as she considered her words. “He’s been like a father-figure to me. Helion taught me to develop my magic while asking for nothing in return. It was… unquestioning support and I’ve never experienced that before.”

His throat bobbed as he contemplated her words. Cassian thought back to Velaris, all those months where he failed to reach her. How was Helion able to reach her when Cassian could not? He didn’t know, but Casisan was glad for it nonetheless. For helping Nesta, he owed the High Lord of Day a debt which could never be repaid. 

“Are you ready to see him again?” He asked while gallantly offering his arm.

“No, not at all.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “This is going to be needlessly uncomfortable, But we might as well get this over with.”

~

As promised, lunch had been laid out on the patio overlooking the pool. _It’s a feast, really,_ Cassian thought warily as he inspected the offerings before him. There were multiple platters of cured meats, a plate of sliced duck, bowls of sugared fruits and various jars of jams and spreads. Baskets were laden with different types of breads and rolls and he could make out at least six different types of cheeses. There was easily enough food to feed a squad of Illyrians, but Cassian wasn’t about to complain. He’d spend enough time in the field to know when to turn a blind eye to unexpected windfalls. 

Nesta took a seat at Helion’s right hand side, so Cassian chose the space directly across from her. She busied herself by filling her plate, sneaking a quick glance at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Cassian followed her lead and filled his plate with heaping portions of proteins. Helion kept a close watch monitoring their actions, his golden eyes darting back and forth between the pair. Nesta tore into a roll apart, slathered it with warm butter before finally turning her attention to Helion. Cassian gave her credit, she was able to meet his gaze head on with only the faintest blush staining her cheeks. 

“How are the people of Adriata?” She asked, a furrow between her brows betraying her underlying apprehension. “Were there many casualties from the attack?”

“Everyone in the palace is safe, Sweetling.” He told her and Nesta visibly relaxed. “There was no direct attack on the palace. There _was_ fighting on both sides of the Bay but it was resolved quickly since the remaining High Lords had gone out to assist Tarquin’s troops. It’s my understanding that it could have been a total slaughter if it wasn’t for their assistance.”

“So Feyre is safe?”

“Both of your sisters were unharmed.” Helion confirmed and Nesta jerked back in surprise. 

“ _Elian_ was in the Summer Court? You told me she was missing the summit, that she was staying in Velaris.” A thought must have occurred to her, because her eyes narrowed and she continued in a clipped tone. “I thought they were _both_ refraining from attending the Summit. And speaking of Feyre, there was a key piece of information you neglected to tell me about my sister.”

Cassian held his breath as he glanced at Helion. Nesta’s sudden change of demeanour would have frozen the balls off of a lesser male, but the High Lord of Day looked unaffected. 

“Elain travelled to Adriata shortly after your capture. I assume your sisters were in the midst of plotting a way to free you, before your little disappearing act Regardless, I didn’t know Feyre was attending the Summit until _after_ I arrived. I assumed her condition would have kept her in Velaris. And before you give me hell for concealing her pregnancy, you might want to remember that it was _your_ idea to go on an information diet about your family. You said it would be easier to remain focused if you weren’t appraised on their life. And speaking of which,” Helion continued as he turned to evaluate Cassian, “just how much does our Illyrian friend know?”

Cassian straightened. It was time to discover just what Nesta had been up to these past years. _Finally._ Nesta frowned slightly as her gaze flickered back to him. 

“Cassian knows the witches are after me, but not much else. We didn’t have a lot of time to discuss things before the attack began. He knows you’re involved, obviously, but that’s about it.” 

Helion arched an onyx brow as he took a bite of bread and cheese. He chewed silently as he deliberated something, his astute eyes locked on Cassian. 

“He only knows about _my_ involvement?” Helion asked lightly and Nesta looked almost.. _Guilty?_

“This might be a good time to bring me up to speed, considering the fact that I’m sitting right here.” Cassian reminded them dryly. 

Nesta and Helion exchanged a long look, an entire conversation playing out in their eyes. Cassian shifted on his chair and he stabbed at a piece of meat. If they thought Cassian would be content with a highly censored account then they were due for a surprise. He couldn’t fathom why they still needed to keep things hidden, but he would ferret it out of them eventually. He wasn’t about to let his personal feelings for Nesta stand in the way of her protection. 

“I think I should start by explaining my abilities.” Nesta began.

“Your ‘ _not winnowing_ ’ water abilities? Is there more to it?”

Nesta tilted her head as she considered his question. 

“Maybe it’s best if I _show_ you.” She told him as she stood up and began making her way towards the pool. 

Cassian sent a confused glance to Helion, who simply made an ‘after you’ gesture with his folk. The Illyrian rose and headed over to join her. Nesta sat down at the edge of the pool, carefully tucking her knees underneath. She pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear while Cassian squatted down beside her. He eyed the thin linen material of her dress. It didn’t seem appropriate for swimming. 

“You going for a dip again, Sweetheart?”

She didn’t respond but her eyes, a steely blue in the afternoon light, shifted over towards him. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. 

“Name a place.” She instructed. “Somewhere that we’ve both been together. Somewhere with water.” 

He frowned as he thought of, then promptly disregarded, several options. She was quiet as she watched him, a small smile ghosting her face. He was vaguely aware of Helion approaching from behind. Finally he latched onto one location in particular.

“The Rainbow of Velaris.” He blurted out.

Cassian immediately winced when his brain caught up to his mouth. He’d name Velairs, the _one place_ that Nesta was avoiding. He’d open his mouth to apologize - he didn’t want her assuming this was a trick - but Nesta merely nodded her head and leaned over the pool. 

She didn’t slip into the pool like he assumed. Nesta merely dropped both palms onto the water’s surface and closed her eyes. The water rippled out at the light disturbance but everything else remained unchanged. After a moment she opened her eyes and looked over to him, her palms still skimming the surface of the pool. He blinked in confusion, not really sure what Nesta was getting up to. She simply tilted her head towards the pool.

“Look.” Said Nesta.

Cassian bent over the pool, expecting to find his reflection staring back at him. He gasped slightly as he registered the vision before him. It was if he was looking through a window into Velaris. Even though Cassian was looking _down_ into the pool, the reflection on the water seemed to be looking _up_ through the Sidra. He could make out the colourfully painted buildings that lined the streets of the artist quarters. Overhead - or was in _beneath_ the pool - a bird flew across the sky. 

“She can make portals,” Helion explained as he knelt down beside Cassian, “and right now you’re looking into Velaris. If you were to jump into the water, you’d surface in the Sidra and she would stay right here. Nesta can open a doorway between two separate bodies of water.”

He gaped as he took in the view. In all his centuries alive he’d never heard of such a thing. How was such a thing even possible? 

“What happens if I were to stick my head in the pool?” He asked.

“Your head will pop up in the Night Court, while your body will remain in Day.” 

Cassian cocked his head as a thought occurred to him.

“Would I become decapitated if you ended the portal when my head was in Velaris?”

Nesta jerked her hands out of the water and looked horrified. 

“ _What?_ Gods, no!” She told him, alarmed. “That’s _disgusting._ ”

“It’s a fair question.” Helion chucked. “And no, you won’t become bisected. You’ll be pushed backwards or forward into one of the bodies of water. Nesta, my sweet, why don’t you show Cassian a little more of your abilities?”

Nesta’s nose was crinkled, as if she was not quite over the picture Cassian had painted in her mind. She shook her head slightly before refocusing her attention on the pool, placing her hands back onto the water. She cocked her head as if in thought, then spread out her fingers. Cassian leaned forward, eager to see what else Nesta’s magic could accomplish. 

The reflection wavered for a few moments, as if Nesta was trying to bring a picture into focus. The image suddenly sharpened and Cassian could make out distant snow capped mountains lined with towering evergreen trees. There were no apparent fae-made buildings to clue him into their location. He regarded the mountain range for a few moments. It was familiar but he had troubles playing it due to the unusual angel. He blinked once as a memory flashed through his mind. 

“That’s the Illyrian Steepes!” Cassian realized.

She pulled her hands back out and grinned. The reflection ripped a few times and Illyria disappeared, the water returning to pale blue colour. 

“Name a place.” She challenged, bubbling with excitement. “Give me the general vicinity and I bet you that I can find it.”

He leaned back on his heels. In any other circumstance he would be happy to play her games but right now he was trying to wrap his head around her capabilities. 

“Can you find _any_ place? Even if it’s somewhere that you’ve never been to before?” He asked sharply.

Her grin faded slightly and she cast a quick glance to Helion before standing up, drying her palms on her skirts. Cassian rose as well, intently focused on the female before him. 

“I can. At least _I think_ I can. I’ve been to most of the major cities in Prythian by now.” Nesta admitted as she headed back towards the patio. “I don’t really know how to explain it. At first I would just think of a place and be transported. I didn’t know how to control it. But after a few months of training with Helion, I started to _‘see’_ towns and villages that were unfamiliar to me. I would pinpoint a count in my mind and then, I don’t know, almost form a connection to the water there. I would then stretch with my magic and follow the rivers and creeks to other cities. Water connects almost everything. If there is water then I can go there.”

Cassian retook his seat across from her, amazed. The possibilities were infinite.

“And you went to Helion the moment you left Velaris?” He asked. 

Nesta and Helion shared another look and now Cassian was certain they were hiding something.

“I didn’t come here immediately. I, uh, ran into a bit of trouble beforehand.” Nesta explained as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “My powers started manifesting before my banishment from Velaris - that's how I left the Night Court in the first place - and I went into Prythain to see what I could do. That’s when I ran into the witches.”

Cassian straightened immediately at the mention of the witches. 

“That’s right, you mentioned that they have your blood. How the hell did they manage that?”

“The Mortal Queens were tracking me ever since the war with Hybern. I’m sure your _High Lord_ had figured that out before he banished me.” Nesta sneered.

Cassian frowned. He could sense their old argument rearing its ugly head. 

“Rhysand was aware of that threat.” He confirmed, heat lining his own voice. “And we were completely prepared to protect you from them in _the Illyrian Mountains._ ”

Nesta’s eyes flashed silver in anger and he felt his own hackles begin to rise. Helion took one look at the deteriorating situation and interrupted before they began arguing in earnest. 

“Now, now, you two. That’s practically ancient history at this point. Bringing this up now will do little to further Nesta’s story.” Helio turned to Cassian. “You’ve pursued her for years. You’re here now, you might as well let her carry on.”

He begrudgingly acknowledged Helion's point and forced himself to drop the issue. A muscle in Nesta’s jaw twitched as she leveled another glare at Cassian. _Just like old times._

“As I was saying; I had a run in shortly after leaving Velaris. _I_ wasn’t aware the Queens were after me, so I wasn’t expecting to run into them. Or, more accurately, I wasn’t prepared to run into their lackeys.” Nesta paused as she sipped at her water. 

"And in this case the lackeys are actually witches.” Cassian supplemented. 

“There was just one witch that time. A witch and troops from the Mortal Queen’s army. I later learned her name is Estefania and she’s the head of the coven. They found me… it was north of the wall.” She frowned as she ripped the uneaten half of the roll into smaller bits. “Anyway, that's not important. I managed to escape, but not before I was hit by a couple of arrows. Helion thinks Estefania recovered the arrow from the attack site, because ever since then they've been scrying for me. Apparently my blood is the key to that. That's why I never stay in one sport for too long. I’m vulnerable when outside of Helion’s warding.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair. The fact that she escaped train soldiers on her own while wounded was almost unbelievable. It was further proof of how resilient Nesta was. He couldn’t help but feel pride. 

“The first year you were away we kept hearing rumours of you popping up all over Prythina. I found you in the Spring Court, so it wasn’t just ideal gossip. What was that about?” Cassian asked the question that had troubled him for years.

Forgetting her early annoyance, Nesta grinned at the question as she turned her attention towards Helion. The High Lord of Day let out a sigh before sipping from his goblet of wine. 

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid. Nesta needed to learn how to slip into secured areas, in case she ever transported into a less-than-friendly territory. And who has better security defences than the High Lords of Prythian?”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open and Helion’s casual tone. 

“ _Mother’s tits,_ you sent _Nesta_ into the High Lord’s private homes as a form of _practice_ ? By the Gods, you really _are_ arrogant. Did you assume her position in the Day Court would save her if she was caught?”

Helion laughed - _laughed_ \- at that.

“Nesta doesn’t belong to the _Day_ Court.” The High Lord chuckled, and Nesta sent Helion a look that could kill. “Why are you upset? She was never in any true danger. All of the High Lords know of Nesta’s relationship to Feyre. She’s too valuable to imprison when she could be ransomed to the Night Court. In fact, Feyre’s never-ending missives would only remind the High Lords that Nesta was a prize and not to be trifled with.”

Cassian felt his stomach drop. Helion had played fast and loose with Nesta’s life. His anger began to steadily rise. Any former gratitude he felt for the High Lord was quickly drying up. Nesta frowned as her eyes darted between the two males. 

“Yesterday was the first time I was ever caught, Cassian. It’s really nothing to worry over.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he unsuccessfully pushed down his displeasure. He was finally, _finally_ learning about Nesta’s past. He needed her to keep talking, not waste her breath by defending her mentor’s inane actions. He took a deep breath and tried to school his face into a neutral expression. He would deal with Helion later. 

“Okay, moving on, let’s circle back to the Mortal Queens for a minute. I understand that they blame you for robbing them of immortality but sending an entire coven of witches seems to be overkill. This must be about more than revenge.”

Nesta took a shuddering breath as she poured herself a cup of nettle tea. Helion dropped his chin into his palm as he silently watched them. Cassian had clearly touched down on an important topic. Nesta stirred a dollop of honey into her cup before meeting his eyes.

“They definitely want more than just revenge.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “They know about my abilities to shift through water. The arrows were coated in faebane, it stopped me from accessing my magic. I was essentially trapped and Estefania was able to read my mind. Not only that, but she could _control_ my mind. I was little better than a mindless slave. I heard them talking when I was their prisoner. She knew how to twist my powers to benefit the Mortal Queens. They planned to use me to transport their armies. She wanted to force me to open up passageways to targets in Prythina. Every settlement is built upon a water source, so every settlement is vulnerable.”

Cassian leaned back with growing horror, finally understanding why Nesta was so important to the Mortal Queens. If they could catch Nesta they could turn her into a weapon. The Queens hated the fae. They wouldn’t hesitate to attack Prythian once they had the tactical advantage. If Nesta fell into their clutches then the Queens could mount a direct attack anywhere with zero warning. 

It was impossible to protect all of the hundreds, _thousands_ of settlements spread out over Prythina. How could they plan their defence when every village, town and city could be attacked with no prior warning? Everyone needed water to survive. There was no place to hide. The implications were horrifying. 

“This is why you never stopped running. You’ll never be safe, not long as the witches are pursuing you.” Cassian realized. 

Nesta’s throat bobbed as she held his gaze. 

“I never intended to stay away indefinitely. I just wanted… I wanted to make it on my own. Without the help of a babysitter or handouts. I wanted to get clean and establish myself without anyone's help.” She looked down, ashamed. “I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t like my father. I didn’t want to be the person who gave up when things got hard. But then I was caught less than a week after leaving Velaris. I may have escaped the first time, but I know how important I am to the Mortal Queens. I’m important to them, and the Queens would do anything to find me. So, because of me, my sisters are at risk. They wouldn’t hesitate to use them against me. But they’re not stupid. The Mortal Queens won’t risk an attack on Velaris without me. So I stay away. My sisters are safe as long as I stay away.”

Cassian was quiet as he studied the female before him. After three long years, the final pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Cassian always believed Nesta had a reason to stay away, he’d just didn’t realized how bad things really were. He couldn’t, in good faith, ignore the threat posed to Prythian. Everything was so much worse.

“I think we need to consider bringing this before the other High Lords.” Cassian told her. A wave of anger crossed her face and Cassian held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “You need to look at the bigger picture. They need to know the full extent of the threat that awaits them…”

Nesta cut him off before Cassian could finish his speech.

“You promised, Cassian. You _promised_ me that we would do this without involving my sisters.” She hissed. “It’s been _less than a day_ and you already want to run back to your High Lord.”

“I’m not telling you to go back to Velaris…”

Nesta scoffed at him, her face growing colder by the second.

“I don’t know why I ever expected any different from you. You’ll always defer to your High Lord. Well, I’ve managed just fine without them these past three years. I don’t see why anything needs to change.”

“Nesta, you’re not thinking clearly right now. I made that promise before knowing all the facts. There is so much more at risk than just your family’s safety. If you fall prisoner to the Mortal Queens then _every_ family is at risk. We must go to the High Lords with this knowledge so they can prepare...”

Nesta rose abruptly, her face a cold mask as she stared daggers at him. 

“I will _not_ go before your High Lords. I am my own person and not allow myself to become their weapon.” 

Without another word she swept away from the table, heading towards the main manor without a backwards glance. Cassian remained seated as he watched her leave. What just happened? Why did she react so poorly to his suggestion? She wouldn’t even allow him to finish speaking. Helion sighed as he dribbled honey onto a slice of bread.

“You must not take that personally. Nesta has taken it upon herself to make her sister’s safety her top priority. Unfortunately, she still suffers nightmares from the war with Hybern and it twists her perspective of things.” Helion explained as he took a bite of bread. “Let me talk to her. I’ve allowed her to continue like this for far too long. She must no longer ignore unpleasant realities just because it suits her. I won’t lie; the fact that the witches found her so quickly is worrisome. Things are escalating, and we must adjust with the circumstances or risk losing her to the Mortal Queens. “

Cassian swallowed, his eyes on Nesta’s retreating figure. 

“I’ve always known she was troubled by the war.” Cassian admitted. “How far do you think she will go to protect her sisters? What is Nesta’s limit?”

Helion gave Cassian a sad smile. 

“My dear boy, there is no limit. Long ago, Nesta had made me promise to kill her rather than let her fall back into the Mortal Queen’s clutches.”

Cassain froze at Helion’s confession, ice piercing his veins. For Nesta to even consider such a thing... The thought was terrifying. Helion patted him lightly on the hand.

“Fear not, Nesta does not court death. She will never stop fighting the Mortal Queens. I won’t let her fall into their clutches. Let her cool down and I will go speak to her. All is not lost. Between the two of us, we will make her see reason.”

Helion departed without further comment, leaving Cassian alone with his thoughts. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian was afraid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my month has been fun. ┐(‘～`；)┌
> 
> Last week my entire household went into quarantine for positive exposure to Covid-19. Thankfully everyone tested negative and the quarantine ends tonight at midnight, so things will be going back to normal shortly. The downside is I blew through my "buffer chapters" so it will be a struggle to meet next week's deadline if anything else happens. Hopefully I'll have a quiet week. *knocks on wood*
> 
> Also: I've been bouncing around an idea for a couple new fics with my good buddy Romaismaria. One is a (very long) one shot that I'm hoping to compete for winter break. It's pure fluff - perfect for the holidays.
> 
> The second is a very dark, canon divergent multi-chapter. Definitely more graphic than my current WIP. The idea for this fic has been floating around since well before The Runaway, but I won't attempt to start it until this one is in the bag. 
> 
> As always, I will love it if you drop a comment or leave a kudos. （⌒_⌒）
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The High Lady of Night_


	6. The High Lady of Night

~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

Nesta was angry. More angry than she’d been in a long time. Fists clenched at her sides, she was practically shaking with fury as she stalked into her bedroom. _How dare he? How_ fucking _dare he?_ Nesta seethed as she flung herself down on her bed, punching her pillow for good measure. 

Her singular request was to keep her family away from the business with the Mortal Queens. It was her one and only demand! How _dare_ Cassian call for Feyre’s involvement less than a day after joining forces. She was deeply regretting her decision to work with the Illyrian. She could always shift him off to some far-flung corner of the continent, but that would probably only delay him for a few days, a week tops, before his annoying ass found it’s back to Prythian. 

Nesta had been a fool to trust him so easily. Cassian knew too much. Well, he was only privy to Helion’s involvement and _thank-the-cauldron_ for that. It would have been so much worse if he knew about her other allies. Still, what if he decided to run to Feyre and her bastard brother-in-law? Helion was a direct link back to Nesta. For three years Nesta’s personal cohort were the only ones who could connect her back to Helion. Less than _one day_ with Cassian and her secret was about to be blown to hell. She slapped her mattress in frustration and was debating screaming directly into her pillow when there was a knock on her door. 

Nesta froze, then marginally relaxed when she sensed Helion outside her room. She was debating sending him away when he called out to her.

“Sweetling, I know you’re in there. And while I appreciate your dedication to letting this old childless male experience what it would have been like to parent a teenage daughter, I think this will be to everyone’s benefit if you open up.”

Glowering, Nesta shot off the bed and yanked open her bedroom door. Helion was alone, _thank the mother,_ and she motioned for him to enter. He strode inside and surveyed her room. It doubtlessly likely looked a lot different since last time he was here. Helion granted her permission to decorate the space to her own taste, and she’d done just that. Each little nook and cranny displayed little treasures that she’d picked up during her travels. Her bookshelf was overflowing, of course. Many of the books were filled with pressed flowers or scraps of lace. This was his first time stepping inside her chambers since the day she’d been presented to the Day Court.

Nesta crossed over to her bed and flopped down in a decidedly un-ladylike fashion. Helion had seen Nesta at her absolutely worst over the years. He’d witness her tired and exhausted as she pushed her magic to her absolute limits. He’s seen her vomit her guts out after becoming overworked and overextended. He’d ignored her as she begged for reprieve, pushing her instead to keep honing her magic. He'd weathered all of her terrible moods, so Helion could surely forgive her a momentary lapse in grace. 

“Did you send the Illyian bastard away?” She sniffed. “He has a lot of balls asking me to run back to Feyre with my tail between my legs.”

Helion dropped into the wingback chair next to her unlit fireplace and gave her an appraising look.

“I’m actually fairly certain that you misinterpreted his words. Not once did he ask you to return to the Night Court.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed at her friend and mentor. There was no way that he was siding with Cassian on this matter. Not after supporting her for the past three years.

“Were you not sitting right beside me at lunch? Did you miss the part where he wanted to go running back to the High Lords? I won’t do it, Helion. I won’t go from being the prisoner of the Mortal Queens to being a hostage of the High Lords.” Nesta vowed. “It doesn’t matter who holds the keys when you're trapped in a cage.”

Helion sighed as he stood up from his seat and walked over to Nesta, placing both hands on her shoulders. He gazed down at her with what only could be described as a look of fatherly affection. 

“Sweetling, over these past few years I’ve come to love you like I would my own daughter. So I want you to understand that I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say to you; you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

Nesta frowned and yanked herself out of his hold. She gave him her coldest glare, one that had sent multiple males running from her in the past. Helion remained unaffected as he dropped back into his chair. He tilted his head as he watched Nesta pace the room. 

“The Illyrain spoke sense. This is about more than your wounded pride.”

“This is not about my pride...” Nesta argued, but paused when Helion lifted a hand to silence her. 

“You’re right. It’s about your pride _and_ your fear. May I remind you that Cassian never asked _you_ to speak directly to the High Lord. He believes they must be alerted of the total depth of the Mortal Queen’s ambitions for you, and quite frankly I agree. He’s a smart male. Cassian wouldn’t have risen to the level of Commander General if he was lacking strategic foresight. We’ve managed to handle this on our own so far, but the Mortal’s coalition continues to grow. Who knows how powerful they will become if left unchecked?”

Nesta sat back down on her bed as she pondered over Helion’s words, feeling the fight begin to leave . Helion made it seem so easy. Was she just supposed to ignore her apprehensions? Just ignore her deepest fears that simmered and churned at the edge of her consciousness? Nesta was quiet for a few moments, thinking.

“Before I came to you, back during the war with Hybern, they wanted to mould my powers to shape me into a weapon.” She was quiet for a moment as she fiddled with her duvet cover, refusing to meet his eyes as she exposed her vulnerability. “I won’t let that happen again, especially now that we know the extent of my magic. I won’t become some High Lord’s tool for destruction. They won’t use me to attack the human realm.”

Helion tisked.

“I know all of this, sweet girl. I would never let them use you in such a way. You have at least two courts who are willing to back you, never forget that.” 

Nesta let out a shuddering breath as she finally met his eyes. Helion made a valid point, something she had perhaps forgotten during her meltdown. Her friends had always supported her since coming into her life. She needed to trust others to have her back. Her mouth twitched slightly as scrutinized Helion. 

“Perhaps, _maybe,_ I will take a moment to consider Cassian’s offer.” She said stiffly. 

“You were always quick to see reason, Sweetling.” Helion told her with a sage smile. “Our Illyrian friend has returned to his chambers. I believe he was equally troubled by your confrontation. Take this piece of advice from an old male; don’t waste so much time worrying about the future that you miss what’s in the present. Will you go to him?”

Nesta felt her cheeks heat up at the question and she chose not to dignify that with a response. While she cherished Helion’s unwavering support, this was not a topic up for discussion. She stiffened her back and gave him her best imperious scowl as she crossed the room and opened up the door, gesturing him out. Helion simply laughed as he passed her, wandering off to deal with other matters. Steeling herself, Nesta glanced out the window at the guest house, where Cassian was licking his wounds. 

  
  


~

Nesta didn’t tarry too long when it came to addressing Cassian. Helion made a valid point but she couldn’t quite shake off her initial distrust of the Illyrian. The two of them had conflicting loyalties for long now that she had difficulties accepting that anything had changed. Perhaps she’d been a bit too quick to jump the defensive, but Cassian had almost always deferred to Rhysand in the past. She thought, in her heart of hearts, that this was yet another example to add to their sordid history. There was still a large part of her screaming at her to keep Feyre out of the equation, but she would let Cassian argue his side. 

Straightening her shoulders, she knocked on the door to his suite. It opened without hesitation, almost as if he heard her approaching and rushed to meet her. Cassian eyes were so large that it was almost comical that a laugh bubbled up from her throat. She managed to turn it into a polite cough before addressing him.

“I’ve had a discussion with Helion,” she began awkwardly, “and it’s come to my attention that I misconstrued your comments.”

Cassian didn’t immediately react, his warm eyes intently searching her face. Nesta felt a line appear before her brows. Damnit, she was never good at apologizing. Was he going to force it out of her? Did he think he deserved one before he even clarified his stance?

“If you're looking for an apology you might as well…”

Before Nesta could finish the sentence she was suddenly engulfed by the Illyrian. Her face was crushed against his hard chest, her arms pinned at her sides. Mother above, his embrace was _crushing._ She could do little but stand there and be squeezed against the hulking brute. A fleeting part of her wondered if this was how she was fated to die, hugged to death by an overly-affable giant of a male, when he suddenly pulled back. Pride kept her from gasping for air as she stumbled back. 

“That was a little excessive.” She grumbled as she breezed into his room. 

“Helion told me about his vow to you.” Cassian blurted out, freezing Nesta in her tracks. 

“Pardon?” She asked after a beat.

“Helion told me you’d rather die than fall into the witches clutches. That death was the only viable option.” Cassian looked over her frantically, as if she was currently only moments away from meeting her end. “Gods, Nesta why did you make such a ridiculous request?”

Nesta blinked. _Fucking. Helion._

Of all the things that he could have told Cassian, _that_ was the last thing she expected. She stepped away from him, the space suddenly feeling much too small. Damn Helion for sending her to Cassian without any warning. Cassian had always been protective, even before she ever became fae. Nesta never intended for him to learn about Helion’s promise. Gods, how would she even begin to explain this?

“You have to understand, Cas. I didn’t make that decision lightly. I don’t want to _die,_ it's the furthest thing from that. But I also can’t allow myself to fall back into their custody.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. 

“The sheer amount of people that would die on both sides of the war are horrifying, and I’m just _one_ life. One out of _thousands_ who would fall if the Mortal Queens had their way. There is no equation. I won't let myself be used as a vehicle of war. You don’t know what it was like, to be trapped in your own mind while the witches twisted your body to do their bidding. I couldn’t live like that. Not again.” 

Cassian’s expression was unreadable as he watched Nesta explain herself. Those warm, hazel eyes had taken on a world weary flatness, the lines on his face suddenly deeper. He looked so different from the male who had pulled her into his arms just that morning. Nesta bit her lip and walked over to his bed, gingerly sitting on the edge. She patted the space beside her. He joined her after a minute and she nestled into his side. They’d been reunited for under a day and she was already becoming reliant on his body heat. His mere presence turned her world upside down. 

“I don’t want to die.” She reiterated. “So if you have any other suggestions, I’ll be really glad to listen to them.”

He was quiet, taking a moment to debate her words. He held himself stiffly, softening only where Nesta pressed against him. Cassian was troubled by her revelation and she once again cursed Helion. The vow had been made at one of her lowest moments. A solid month of nightmares kept her from meaningful rest, her imagination running wild with the worst case scenarios, and Nesta had reached her wits end. 

In retrospect, she’d almost forgotten how bad things had been those first couple of months. Time and training had done wonders improving her mental fortitude. Her perspective changed the moment she took back control and she hadn’t thought about Helion’s vow in ages. 

“Talk to me about the High Lords.” She prompted gently. “I promise I’ll listen this time.”

He nodded his head and stood up, crossing the room to face her. His face was closed off, once more the general preparing for battle. 

“I think we need to bring this information to the attention of the High Lords. I’m not asking you to join us. I can speak on your behalf or, if you prefer, Helion can represent you. But it’s important that the ruling families are made aware of this new development. It has the potential to change everything. 

“I’m not telling you to present yourself before them, I’d never force you to do that. But forewarning the High Lords will give them time to strategize a way to defend their people from attacks. That could be the difference between life and death for the people of Prythian”

A wave of fear washed over Nesta. She shivered, despite the heat of the room.

“I’m not ready to face them again, but I’ll let you speak on my behalf. If you think that the High Lords can use this knowledge to defend their people, then I give you my blessing.” She searched out his eyes, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. “But can you please reign in my sister? Just make sure she doens’t do anything stupid? This isn’t her personal battle. I don’t want her sacrificing herself in some foolish ploy to save me. Please promise me this, Cass.”

His eyes tightened as he turned to face the window. His profile was a cold mask.

“I think it’s safe to assume putting yourself before your family is an Archeron trait.” He quipped in a humourless voice. “But I will do what you ask. I will go before the High Lords and Ladies and tell your story. This is… the right thing to do, Nesta. I know you have your hesitations, but you don’t need to do this alone. There are people who will help you. You just need to let them in.”

She nodded as she stood up. And that was it, then. She was coming clean. Sometimes being in control meant learning to let go. There was nothing left to do but pray that she made the right choice.

“I guess you and Helion will want to leave today?” She asked as she walked towards his door.

Cassia had a troubled expression on his face. For a moment she thought he was going to stop her from leaving, but he remained at his place by the window. 

“We’ll need time to prepare. I’ll speak to Helion. We need to outline our discussion, but it’s a good idea to leave today.”

Nesta nodded in understanding, standing awkwardly at the entrance. Cassian didn’t say anything else, so she gave him a tight smile and then let herself out of his room. 

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Cassian**

  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

  
  


They had spent the better part of the afternoon going over their submission for the High Lords and Ladies of Prythian. According to Helion, the ruling families were set to return to Adriata for the evening session. This was the best time present their findings on the Mortal Queens. Nesta had stayed for the majority of their deliberation, answering questions as best she could. Helion was well versed with the situation and could fill in many of the missing pieces. By late afternoon Cassian felt confident their presentation would convince the High Lords to the seriousness of the matter. 

Nesta would remain in the Day Court and all were in agreement that Helion would reveal his involvement. Cassian would give anything not to miss Feyer’s reaction to _that_ particular piece of information. Nesta wasn’t the only Archeron with a knack for petulance and Cassian was secretly anticipating Helion’s eventual castigation. 

The small group finished up their preparations over an early dinner. There was little reason to delay their trip. Helion had left a few minutes prior with an offhand remark that he needed to leave instructions for his staff. Cassian privately assumed it was an excuse to give the pair privacy for their goodbyes. Nesta was busy shuffling a few loose leaf papers in order, rereading the hastily scribbled down notes. Cassian watched her as she moved around the table, focused on the paperwork at hand. 

Cassian was troubled. Before Helion’s admission he was prepared to sit Nesta down and tell her all about the mating bond. He regretted not telling her back in Velrais, heart heavy with the knowledge that the past few years may have played out differently if he never delayed that talk. Nesta wanted him and no longer shied away from the connection between them. Cassian thought it best to stop delaying the inevitable and address the bond with his mate. It wasn’t his intention to force the issue with her - her choice to accept could wait - but he wanted Nesta to an informed decision before their relationship progressed. 

And then Helion had revealed his vow to Nesta, blowing his plans out of the water. Twin instincts were at war within himself. Part of him felt he should still speak to Nesta, especially knowing just how angry Feyre was after learning about her mating bond with Rhysand. Nesta was just as hot tempered as her sister, it was likely that she would react in a similar manner. But _now_ he worried the timing of this could be viewed as an act of manipulation. He would never again threaten Nesta’s sense of agency. The last thing he wanted was Nesta’s viewing their mating bond as a plot to bind her to him. 

So, when she approached him earlier in his room, Cassian decided to hold his tongue. He didn’t want to make the decision in haste, but the short delay had done little to resolve the issue. Now they were alone once again and Cassian had a decision to make. 

“Nesta, there is something we need to discuss.” He told her with little preamble. 

She stopped what she was doing and looked up, meeting his gaze. Her lovely face had a quizzical expression, a faint line appearing between her brows. He took a calming breath.

“After I’ve returned from the Summer Court, when we have more time together, I would like to sit down with you. There is something that’s been weighing on my mind for a long time, and I want to talk to you about it.”

The questioning expression quickly morphed to one of worry. 

“Is there something wrong? Did something happen?” She asked immediately, dropping the papers to the table. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. At least I hope it’s nothing to worry about.” Cassian paused, warning to smack his forehand when alarm began to mar Nesta’s lovely features. “Sorry, sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. It’s nothing… bad. I think. There's just something that I would like to discuss with you. It’s about us. Or maybe not.”

Nesta’s eyes were wide as she listened to him. Cassian couldn’t help but notice how shallow her breathing had become. He closed his eyes in frustration. This was coming out all wrong. He never claimed to be overly romantic, but he was usually much smoother than this. 

“Can this even wait until you return?” She asked quietly, trepidation colouring her features. 

“It can. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to make plans for our future.”

“Our future?” Nesta repeated, a light flush staining her cheeks. “Oh. _oh._ Okay.”

“Okay, then. Good. It’s a date. When I’m back from Adriata the two of us will sit down and have a talk. Just us. No disruptions.”

“I’d like that, I think.” Nesta told him softly, anticipation lighting up her eyes. 

Her countenance was at complete odds with the women he met in the Mortal Lands all those years ago. It wasn’t that Nesta had necessarily changed, per se, but his perception of her had altered. She was still the proud, irascible female who sized him up and refused to back down from their very first meeting. But now she wasn’t afraid to let down her guard and show Cassian her softer, vulnerable side. 

And maybe Cassian had changed a little, too. Spending his formative years believing himself to be unworthy had moulded his character, perhaps for the worse, and it had taken him too long to become cognizant of that fact. The status of his birth led him to believe himself unworthy of true born females. Sure, he’d flirt with and fuck those who were willing, but all parties were perfectly aware that it was a short term arrangement. They couldn’t hurt him if he didn’t give them a chance. 

But did it have to remain that way? 

After all, look at his meteoric rise in the Illyrian Army. It was previously unheard of a bastard born nobody ascending to higher ranks, yet Cassian had attained the top level of Commander General. He’d never sabotaged himself because he _believed_ the army was his destiny. Cassian was always meant to become a soldier. He never doubted himself and rose to meet every occasion with stubborn determination. That, in of itself, was proof that he could rise above the station of his birth. 

So, why did he allow his illegitimate status to hinder one aspect of his life, while thriving in the other? He never examined it too closely. But now Nesta was back in his life and he found himself willing to risk the heartbreak. Nesta was the female that made the risk worthwhile. She was always worth it, even before the bond. Even _without_ the bond. Others may find his heart to be unworthy, but it wholly belonged to her. 

So he reached out, took her hand, and gently pulled her to his side. Nesta was more than eager to embrace him, readily collapsing into his arms. One hand fell to the soft dip of her waist, the other slid up her back and nestled between her shoulder blades. He held her close, delighting in the scent and the soft swells of her body. 

Cassian bent down to kiss her, and his sweetly vicious little mate enthusiastically rose up on her toes to meet him. The kiss was soft and gentle, much more restrained than their earlier embrace in the garden. Later, after Adriata, he’d have the opportunity to worship her properly. He would sweep her into his chambers and lock themselves away from the world. Then he would take his time to learn the secrets of her body, discovering all the different ways to bring her pleasure. But, for now, they only had this one fleeting moment so he made the most of it, kissing her with a tenderness that laid out the truth of his heart. Then, much too soon, Cassian became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. He reluctantly released her and stepped away, but not before brushing a thumb over her plush lower lip.

“All preparations are complete on my end.” Helion announced in too loud a voice, making sure his presence was known before approaching. “I’m ready to go, if you are.”

Even though she knew their departure was imminent, Nesta’s face seemed to drop at Helion’s announcement. A detached part of his brain marveled at the fact that this female, who’d once fought so hard to keep her distance, was now anguished at the thought of their separation. 

“As soon as I’m back.” He reminded her softly, just loud enough for his mate to hear. 

He gave her a wink, then turned around to face Helion. The High Lord of Day stood back at a respectable distance. He was attired in his High Lord finary, a sun-inspired crown atop of his head. He looked every inch a ruler. Which was good, because Cassian wasn’t looking forward to the task at hand. They’d need all the help they could get. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to go ahead first?” Helion asked him. “To gain Tarquin’s permission for you to enter his court?”

Cassian huffed a laugh. 

“Why start asking for permission at this point? What’s the worst they can do to me, throw me in prison?” He asked with an ironic twist of his mouth.

Nesta rolled her eyes, less than impressed with his wisecrack at her expense. 

“Go now and take this fool with you. I’ll be forever indebted to you if you leave him in Summer.” She told Helion with an indignant sniff. 

“Liar.” He whispered in Nesta’s ear and he swept past her to join Helion. Casian bit back a grin when she shivered in response to his taunt, choosing to ignore _that_ until they had their privacy. 

The plan was for Helion to winnow them into the Day Court’s assigned chambers before the summit reconvened for the evening sessions. Cassian would stay out of sight until Helion had the chance to brief Tarquin about his presence. Fortunately, the Day Court’s suites were on the same floor as the Night Court, so Cassian would seek out his brothers while he waited. 

The last time Cassian spoke to them was when Azriel informed Cassian of his mate’s imprisonment. It was possible that Rhysand and Feyre didn’t know who assisted Nesta with her jailbreak. Cassian was still banished from the Summer Court, so the less they knew of his scheming, the better. There was only so much that Tarquin would let slide in the name of diplomacy.

“Let us not tarry, then.” Helion announced as he placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Nesta it’s best if you remain here under the protection of my wards. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is debated throughout the night, but I will do my best to send word.”

Nesta sat on the edge of the table as she watched the males prepare to leave for Summer, uneasiness apparent on her face. Cassian gave her a crooked grin, hoping his relaxed stance would help soothe some of her anxiety. She returned the smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

He frowned and opened his mouth to reassure Nesta, but Helion tightened his grip and darkness folded around them. Cassian’s vision was nearly obscured. He could make out little over the churning shadows as Helion winnowed him away. The darkness cleared as suddenly as it appeared and they found themselves in the Summer Court, with Nesta behind in Day. Cassian yanked himself roughly out of the High Lord’s grasp, annoyed despite himself, and took in his surroundings. 

The suite was spacious, with floor to ceiling walls lining the westernly bank of walls. The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon and the sky was awash in a brilliant display of orange, pinks and purples. He stepped towards the window to take in the view. Was it really only that morning that the awoke with Nesta on the other side of the Bay? 

He was aware of Helion moving around behind him and Cassian turned to face him once again.

“This is my personal suite so you’ll have adequate privacy here. My retinue knows to keep their distance without invitation. The summit is set to reconvene in about thirty minutes so Tarquin should be on site. Do you want to wait here, or would you prefer to arrive with Rhysand’s people?”

“I should probably check in with Rhysand.” Cassian responded without hesitation. Rhysand may have suspected his involvement, but his brother and High Lord would be less than pleased to learn of the extent of his entanglement with the other leaders of Prythian. 

Helion gave him a tight nod and he gestured towards the door. 

“No time like the present.” Helion prompted, and Cassian followed him out into Summer.

  
  
  


~~~~~~

**Feyre**

_The Adriata Palace_

_The Summer Court_

The overall mood encompassing Feyre’s friends and family was one of somber dejection. Ever since the Mortal Queen’s stunning declaration earlier in the day, the air had been heavy with an impenetrable sense of unease. Elain’s presence had done little to abate Feyre’s despondency, especially because of Elain’s steadfast refused to discuss the situation at hand. Feyre couldn’t help but feel frustrated and a little betrayed by Elain’s refusal to speak of their missing sister. It had quickly escalated into a shouting match, their respective husbands dragging them apart before it could devolve even further. 

Rhysand had stayed close by her side for the majority of the day, doing his best to comfort his stressed mate. But time was a luxury that they could no longer afford and Rhys was forced to leave to consult with the other High Lords. Feyre had desperately wanted to join them, but remained in their chambers at Rhys’ request. Tensions were running high, and he was worried about the effects of stress on their baby. 

So now there was little left to do but pace the suites. Azriel and Elain had retreated to their room. Mor was in the mortal realm on a fact finding mission. Only the Gods knew where Cassian was, leaving only Armen for company. Feyre appreciated Amren, truly she did, but her third in command was the last female she’d want to rely on for sympathy. The tiny fae watched Feyre stalk pass for the dozenth time that hour, bemusement clear on her face. 

“If you require exercise then you should consider taking a turn around the gardens. I’m sure Tarquin’s carpets will thank you for it.” Amren suggested dryly.

“If you’re bored then seek our Varian.” Feyre replied icly, no longer bothering to hide her exasperation. “I don’t require a keeper.”

Amren sorted as she picked up her wine glass, giving the blood red wine a swirl. 

“Varian and the Royal Guards are in the city offering assistance after the attack. I could join them or I could stay with you. You have wine, so the choice was easy.” Her third offered before taking a deep drink of her wine. 

Feyre didn’t bother to hide her eye roll as reclined back onto a settee, reaching for her own glass of ginger tea. The taste itself was appalling, but the tea was the only thing that helped soothe her second trimester bouts of nausea. The morning sickness may have passed months ago, but the Mortal Queens declaration had frazzled everyone’s nerves. Feyre needed all the assistance she could get. 

Amren gazed at her with a hawkish expression, taking one last sip of wine before depositing her glass back onto the side table. The wine had stained her lips blood red, reminding her of Amren’s previous proclivities, before the Cauldron had forever altered her dietary requirements. 

“Perhaps your temperament would improve if you repair your relationship with your sister.” Amren offered almost indifferently.

“Elain?” Feyre clarified.

Amren snorted. It wasn’t like Nesta was going to walk through the front door anytime soon, and maybe her third in command had a point about Elain. Feyre had, perhaps unfairly, taken out her frustrations on her remaining sister. Elain wasn’t to be faulted for their current predicament.

It was clear that Elain missed Nesta; she dropped everything and asked to be winnowed immediately to Adriata after learning of Nesta’s reappearance. They had been in the midst of persuading Tarquin to let them visit Nesta, when Varian had announced Nesta’s escape. Elain had been devastated that she missed an opportunity to see her big sister. Yet, she remained tight lipped when it came to Nesta. It was a tired argument at this point. Feyre had already lost Nesta. She didn’t want to drive Elain away as well. 

“Perhaps you’re right.” Feyre muttered as she pushed herself to her feet. 

Thankfully Amren kept any comments to herself as Feyre shuffled towards the newlywed’s chambers. At least that was her intended destination before three rapid knocks on the door diverted her attention. She cast a quick glance at Amren, who was busy studying her own nails. 

“Were you expecting someone back this early?” Feyre asked as she changed directions towards the front entrance. 

“No.” Amren drawled, not even bothering to glance up from her examination.

The floor had been warded against spies. The magic dampened Feyre’s own sense when she reached out to discover the visitors identity. Still, she wasn’t too concerned. This floor was restricted to the High Lords and their most trusted advisors. Whoever stood on the other side wouldn’t pose a threat. Feyre swung open the door to reveal Helion and… Cassian?

“Cass!” 

Cassian was the _last_ person she had expected. _Gods,_ he was still banished by Tarquin! Feyre stepped aside to clear a path, and gestured for the males to enter. He may not be dressed in his usual leathers but he was tall and broad, cutting a striking figure wherever he went. Hopefully Cassian’s arrival had gone unnoticed by anyone who could recognize him. Feyre shut the entrance and immediately engulfed the towering Illyrian into a hug. It had been well over a month since she last saw her friend. He placed two calloused hands on her shoulders as he leaned back to survey her.

“You’re _huge._ ” Cassian exclaimed as he gaped at her rounded belly.

Feyre gave him a mock glare and punched him in the shoulder. Cass only laughed at her actions, completely unfazed by the blow. His laugh lines crinkled as he smiled down at her. Feyre was aware of Azriel approaching from her peripheral vision. 

“Brother.” Cassian greeted, his old sparkle back in his hazel eyes. 

Azriel simply nodded at Cass, seemingly unperturbed by his brother’s sudden appearance. _Huh._ Feyre narrowed her eyes slightly at the Spymaster as her suspicion flared to life. Cassian arriving so shortly after Nesta’s disappearance was shaping up to be more than a coincidence. 

“What are you even _doing_ here? Tarquins isn’t going to be pleased you’re in summer.” Feyre warned Cassian, before turning her attention to the High Lord of Day. “I’m assuming this is your doing?”

“It is, Feyre.” Helion confirmed as he stepped to Cassian’s side. “We have pertinent information regarding the Mortal Queens and came to present the matter before everyone. I realize you may not be comfortable with Cassian’s presence, but our information supersedes the banishment of one male. I am going to petition Tarquin to suspend the banishment for the duration of the summit.”

Cassian nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll wait here while Helion gets permission, assuming you’re okay with that.”

Feyre looked at the two males before her, blinking in confusion. “You have information about the Mortal Queens. Helion… were you _not here_ earlier today?”

The High Lord of Day’s brows furrowed in bewilderment. “I was here for a short visit but spent most of the day at my personal estate. I’m aware that the Mortal Queens attacked the city.” 

“ _They don’t know_.” Amren commented helpfully from her chair. 

“Don’t know what, exactly?” Asked a suddenly cautious Cassian, his eyes flying to meet Azreil’s. His jaw clenched at whatever he saw there. Feyre pushed down a sudden wave of nausea. _Gods, Cassian has no clue._

“Come, sit down.” She offered, suddenly feeling a hundred years older. “We have a lot to discuss.”

~

  
  


Everyone had settled themselves in the Night Court’s parlor. Rhysand, having sensed Feyre's discomfort through their bond, arrived only minutes after Cassian. He was currently perched beside her, running a soothing hand over her back. Elain sat on her other side, clasping Feyre’s hand in silent support. The sisters had quickly exchanged an apologetic look, but the time for atonement would have to wait. This was so much more important than a sisterly feud. 

Amren remained on her chair, silently sipping her wine as she took in the scene before her. Azriel stood behind his wife, his face a carefully neutral mask. Feyre ran her free hand over her stomach in a soothing manner as she indicated for Cassian to continue.

“New information has come to light regarding the Mortal Queens and Nesta.” Cassian began, pausing awkwardly as he met Feyre’s eyes. “I was the one who helped her escape from the palace last night.”

Feyre gasped at the revelation but the sound was drowned out by Amren’s snort. She felt a flash of discontent from her mate.

“You purposely entered a territory from which you've been banished? Not only that, but you broke Nesta out of confinement from Tarquin’s palace? The very palace where your own High Lord and Lady are currently residing as honoured guests?” Rhys snapped. He turned to throw an icy look at his Spymaster. “It doesn't take a leap to logic to determine where Cassian got his information from.” 

“It was a good thing that Nesta was removed from the Summer Court. The witches were sent here to collect her.” Cassian argued.

“Yes, we’re well aware.” Rhysand snarled.

The visiting males started at that, exchanging a confused look.

“What exactly transpired in my absence?” Helion asked carefully.

Feyre’s stomach tightened as she placed a hand on Rhysand’s thigh, a silent request to let her continue the story. 

“At first, we didn’t know why the Mortal Queen’s soldiers were attacking. We assumed it was a minor skirmish. That they were sent to distract the High Lords. They didn’t send many soldiers and there was no direct attack on the civilians. The Wyvern itself did minimal damage. All in all, the outcome could have been a lot worse. But then a representative of the Queens delivered a summons to the castle. Walked right up and knocked on the front door.”

“Where is the representative now?” Helion queried.

“He left shortly after delivering a message.” Feyre swallowed and Elain gave her hand a squeeze. “It was an ultimatum. The Mortal Queens have demanded the High Lords of Prythian turn over Nesta within a fortnight or risk an all out war.”

Cassian went stockstill but Helion barked a humourless laugh. 

“She has been missing for years. Why do they think you can find her now?” Helion asked. 

“Because,” Rhysand answered on her behalf, “their witches foresaw it.”

Feyre couldn’t help but shudder as she surveyed the male before her. Cassian's didn’t move a muscle, remaining in place with a preternatural stillness. His calculating face reminded her just how cold blooded the Illyrian could be. She struggled to tear her gaze away when Helion continued his line of questioning. 

“The witches foresaw the High Lords handing your sister over to the Mortal Queens? I don’t believe it. It's a bluff.”

“You don’t seem surprised that the Mortal Queens want Nesta,” Amren noted from her place in the corner. “How did you become involved, High Lord?” 

“I may be a bluff,” countered Rhys, “but the timing is suspicious. Especially when you show up on our doorstep, claiming you also have news of my mate’s sister. Why exactly are you here?”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched.

“First I want to clarify the wording of the ultimatum. They foresaw the High Lord’s just handing over Nesta? Would they even consider that? Would you even allow it?” Cassian asked with an intensity that he’d only previously displayed in battle. 

“They foresaw, or alleged to have foreseen, Nesta falling under their command.” Feyre clarified. “Cass, no matter what has changed over the past three years, I don’t believe she would willingly work for the Queens. Not when they were responsible for dragging her into the Cauldron. But the witches have proclaimed that she is destined to go to the Mortal Queens. They want us to speed up the process and deliver Nesta ourselves. If we don’t hand her over then they will start attacking our cities.”

“If she presented herself to the High Lords, would you hand her over?” Cassian insisted.

“Of course not.” Snapped Feyre, wrapping a protective hand around her stomach. “She’s my _sister_. I would never hand over a family member.”

“I wonder,” summarised Helion as he dropped his chin into his hand, “What your own seer has to say about this?”

Everyone stiffened at Helion’s words. Elain’s cauldron given abilities wasn’t common knowledge among those outside of the Inner Circle, Helion being one of the few exceptions. The High Lord of Day had learned about Elain’s gifts during the war with Hybern, specifically after she was returned from Hybern’s camp. Despite his casual stance, Helion’s golden eyes gleamed with undisguised interest as he viewed her sister. 

“Elian hasn’t seen anything.” Feyre answered on Elain’s behalf. 

“Is that so.” Helion offered in an unconvinced voice. “How interesting. Perhaps I can work with Elain a little. See if we can trigger a vision, hmm?”

Azriel’s wings snapped shut in annoyance, looking like he was about to protest when his wife spoke up. 

“I would like to try, actually.” Elain announced. 

“No.” Came Azriel’s cold reply from over her shoulder. 

Feyre froze, leaning back as Elain stood up to address her husband,

“My darling, if Helion is willing, then so am I. I would like to help in any way possible. We’ll just be in the next room so I’ll be perfectly safe. But I need you to understand; this is not your decision.” Elain turned back towards Helion. “Helion, would you join me in my chambers? We should have more privacy there. It will be easier to concentrate.”

Helion nodded in agreement, those golden eyes still locked onto the Spymaster in a calculating gaze. Azriel watched them go with a frown on his face. 

Rhysand sat back, tilting his head at Cassian.

“Well, brother, it seems you have your own story to tell.”

Cassian tore his gaze away from Helion, refocusing on the remaining members of the Inner Circle. And then he told his story. 

  
  
  


~

  
  
Cassian did his best to bring the Inner Circle up to date on Nesta’s activities over the past three years. Feyre tried to remain quiet as Cassian weaved his tale, interrupting only to ask for the occasional bit of clarification. She had tried to keep emotions out of it, pushing down any little bit of hurt or rejection that reared its head when Cassian defended Nesta’s motivations. Rhysand was a supportive presence at her shoulder, but she could tell that Rhys was dampening his own emotions for her benefit. Amren offered little commentary, merely lifting her red-stained lips in an approving grin as Cassian told Nesta’s story.

It was absolutely ludicrous for Nesta to take on this burden on her own. Feyre was her sister. It was her job to protect Nesta and she was absolutely going to wring her neck the next time they met. Helion was nice enough, but Nesta wasn’t _his_ responsibility. She could feel the annoyance radiating off of Rhysand. He was similarly displeased to learn about Nesta’s antics and was similarly worried about the far-reaching effect of her powers and what that meant for Prythina. Her stomach tightened in frustration and she ran another soothing hand over her belly.

_Darling, are you managing okay? I know this must come as a terrible shock and I’m worried about the effects on you and the babe._

She gave Rhysand a tired smile.

_I won’t lie; it’s a shock to hear about Nesta, especially after so long an absence. But I’m glad she’s safe. This is a good thing, Rhys. We can protect her now. I won’t let her fall into the Mortal Queens clutches._

Her mate's eyes hardened at her comment as he tipped his head in agreement. Rhysand and her sister may never see eye to eye, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Nesta was family. He would tear Prythian apart before letting harm befall her. 

Her gaze drifted towards where Cassian and Azriel stood in a quiet conversation. They stood near the door towards’s Azriel’s rooms, where everyone was waiting impatiently for Elain to exit. When this was over, Feyre was sitting everyone down. All of this drama could have been avoided if they stopped hiding their secrets. 

_Will Azriel be disciplined for revealing Nesta’s imprisonment to Cass?_ Feyre asked through the bond. 

Rhysand’s response was cut short by the sound of a door opening. Feyre rose to her feet with a little assistance from Rhys, and turned to watch Helion and Elain enter the room. Helion’s face was impenetrable, he wore the same inscrutable expression that Rhysand often displayed when dealing with stately matters. Elain just looked tired. 

“Were you successful, my heart?” Azriel asked as he took his wife’s hands into his own.

Elain bit her lip as she met his eyes, giving him a soft shake of her head. Feyre sagged gently against Rhysand. If Elain could hone her skill to read Nesta’s future, so much doubt and uncertainty could be avoided. Still, nothing was guaranteed but Feyre wouldn't let Mortal Queens wouldn’t get their hands on Nesta. Feyre would go down swinging before letting that happen. 

“This doesn’t end here. We’ll do everything in our power to keep Nesta out of the Mortal Lands. She’ll be safe from them. This is my promise.” Feyre vowed. 

“We will keep Nesta safe from the Mortal Queens.” Rhysand announced as he stood at her side. “We failed her once before, during the war with Hybern. I had promised Nesta and Elain safety and ultimately let them down. The Night Court will not fail her again.” 

Elain’s eyes were lined with silver at Rhysand’s words, but she also shook her head in gratitude. Elain leaned into Azriel as he wrapped her into a comforting embrace. Cassian met Rhysand’s gaze and nodded his head in thanks. 

“Well, I should be off.” Announced Helion as he made his way towards the exit. “We still need to bring this matter before the High Lords, and Tarquin needs to give permission for Cassian to enter his lands. I’ll go search him out now. I’ll have a servant send word when it's safe.”

“Thank you, Helion.” Feyre told him.

The High Lord of Day gave her a tight nod, before letting himself out of the suite.

The entire group let out a collective breath once they were alone. Elain remained tucked into Azriel’s side, a rare display of emotion for the two. Her sister looked worn, something Feyre understood all too well these days. She wouldn’t press Elain for details. Not until her sister had time to recover.

Rhysand dropped his hands into his pockets and took a swaggering step towards Cassian. 

“So, brother, care to explain just exactly what you and Nesta got up to last night?” He asked with a glint to his eye. “However did _you_ convince Nesta to stay by your side?”

“I handcuffed her.” Cass responded dryly, causing Amren to choke on her wine. 

_He did what?_ Feyre’s eyes went huge at Cassian’s casual admittance. 

“I’m surprised you still have your balls, boy.” Amren remarked after collecting herself.

“That was a concern of mine, truth be told.” Cassian added with a shrug.

Rhysand made a sound which sounded a little too much like strangled laughter. 

“I don’t know how to feel about this.” Feyre confessed, giving her mate a deserving glare.

Rhysand slid his gaze to meet hers, humour dancing in his eyes, when Elain suddenly jerked out of Azriel’s embrace. Everyone stopped what they were doing to focus on her sister. Elain took a staggering step back, panic lining her face. She opened her mouth and then immediately closed it. A half swallowed sound of frustration bubbled out of Elain. Her slim hands clenched into fists at her side. 

“Elain? What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, voice thick with worry.

Elain turned to face her. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound passed her lips. She stood there, eyes wide with panic, as she struggled to speak. Feyre took a step forward when Elain abruptly spun on her heels and dashed out of the room. 

_What the fuck?_

“What was that about?” 

Rhys’ eyes were fixed on Elain’s retreating figure, humour quickly replaced by a look of calculating intensity. 

“Follow her.” He ordered. 

It was an unnecessary instruction. Azriel had already left to follow his wife. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhysand and Az’s rapidly disappearing back. Dammit, Cass cannot be found wandering around Summer Court grounds. Feyre was about to order Cassian to remain in this suite when launched himself after Azriel and Elain. 

“For fucks sake.” Feyre cursed, turning to Amren. “Wait here for Helion’s return.”

Amren nodded in acknowledgement as she rose to her feet. Without further hesitation Feyre and Rhysand left the chambers, quickly following the Illyrain’s trail. They were headed down a long corridor, her friends currently out of sight. 

“They’re just up ahead.” Rhysand assuaged.

Sure enough, Feyre spotted the trio as soon as she rounded the next corner. Elain was banging on a closed door. Azriels stood protectively at her back and placed a hand on her shoulder. Elain shrugged it off and commenced her knocking. Cassian stood back a few feet back from the married couple. He looked at her with wide eyes, shrugging his shoulders slightly to say that he still didn’t know what was causing Elain’s frenzied behaviour. 

“Step back.” Elain hissed at them. 

Both Illyrains stepped back as requested, hurt apparent on Azriel’s face. Feyre and Rhysand finally reached the group, taking position behind the Spymaster. There was a rattling behind the door as the locks were disengaged, and everyone looked expectantly at the entryway. The door swept open, revealing Eris Vanserra.

The High Lord of Autumn took a half a step back, equally startled by the retinue at his front door. Eris started to sneer at her mate, but his expression dropped into one of outright surprise when Elain took a step forward and clutched Eris’ hand within his own. 

“Please.” Her sister begged. “ _Please,_ you have to help.”

The redhead focused intently on Elain, all venom gone from his face.

“Help with what?” Eris demanded.

“You need to help Nesta.” explained Elain, terror clear in her voice. “She’s about to die.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for that ending. (´ヘ｀()
> 
> Also: my next week is shaping up to be absolutely insane. There is good chance that I will be missing my weekly posting deadline. I'm going to play it safe by announcing that chapter 7 won't be posted until December 15th. If anything changes I will certainly have it up by next week. 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE let me a kudos or comment. It gets me through this dreary December weather. 
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The High Lord of Autumn_


	7. The High Lord of Autumn

  
  


~~~~~~

**Feyre**

_The Adriata Palace_

_The Summer Court_

  
  


“Help Nesta. She’s about to die!” Elain begged Eris as she clutched his hand, voice thick with fear. “Please, Eris. You need to stop it!”

 _Nesta’s going to die_? Feyre felt her world spin out from under her at Elain’s sudden proclamation. Rhysand was at her side in an instant, placing a supporting hand on her shoulders as Feyre reeled backwards. Feyre leaned into her mate as she covered her mouth in shock. Elain’s admission may have stunned Feyre, but it had the opposite effect on the Illyrians. Both males immediately took a protective step forward, flanking Elain. To his credit, the High Lord of Autumn did not even glance at the imposing Illyrians; rather, Eris dismissed them outright. He was focused solely on Elain. 

“Stop _what_ ? What happened to Nesta?” Eris questioned urgently. He didn’t even blink at the unusual situation. It was as if the Inner Circle’s chaotic appearance was a common occurrence on his doorstop. 

_Maybe it is,_ Feyre realized bewilderingly, _what is happening right now?_

“I had a vision. It’s Nesta. She’s in danger…” Elain began after taking in a ragged breath. 

“ _What_ vision _? Who’s_ putting her in danger?” Demanded Cassian as he stepped into Elain’s line of vision.

Her older sister looked up to Cassian. Elain opened her mouth but nothing came out other than a frustrated whimper. Tears began to line her rich brown eyes as she gave her head a defeated shake. 

Why wouldn’t Elain just _speak?_ Was her vision so terrifying that Elain was at loss for words? A sob escaped Elain and she dropped her head to her chin, overwhelmed. 

“ _Enough._ ” Snapped Eris. He gave Elain’s hand a gentle tug to recapture her attention. Azriel’s wings snapped shut in warning as he placed a protective hand on her waist. Still, Eris paid no heed to the Illyrians - He was wholly focused on her sister. “Ignore the others! I need you to focus on me and _only_ me. Don’t look at anyone else, don’t even glance at them. Can you do that?”

At his command, Elain raised her head to meet Eris’. She sniffled and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, taking a brief moment to compose herself before giving Eris a resolutive nod. Feyre watched the proceedings with dismayed fascination. Her brother in law was in an impossible situation; he’d spent centuries absolutely despising Eris and here was his wife, begging that exact male for assistance. Az stood protectively at his wife’s side, ever the vigilant shadow, but he didn’t interfere.

“You’ve come here to warn me about Nesta, correct? Where is she now?” Eris prompted. 

“ _Day._ She’s in the Day Court” Elain admitted with a cry, dropping her head into her hands. Her shoulders began to shake as sobs wracked her slender body. 

“I left her in Helion’s private estate.” added Cassian. 

Eris’ attention snapped to Cassian, frowning. It was the first time he’d bothered to acknowledge the Illyrian. Feyre froze, holding her breath in wary anticipation. Having the males in such close quarters was akin to sitting on a powder keg. These males had a long and sordid history, one wrong move from either side could spark disaster. 

“And she’s there now? You know this for a _fact?_ ” Eris asked.

“We left her there an hour ago.” Cassian admitted through clenched teeth. He was clearly uncomfortable sharing information with Eris. “She’s supposed to stay there until Helion sent word.” 

“But is she there _now_?” Eris demanded, voice lined with irritation. 

“That’s where she was in my vision. That’s where she’s hurt.” Elain admitted with a whimper.

“Then that’s where we go.” Eris declared with an air of finality. He turned to Rhysand. “You’ll take the Illyrians?”

“I’ve never been there.” Rhys confessed. “You’ll have to take everyone.”

Eris grimaced slightly, as if faced with a distasteful task, but he stretched out his hands without complaint. Azriel bushed a kiss into Elain’s hair as he guided her towards Feyre. She gathered Elain into her arms, holding on tightly as Elain began to freely sob into Feyre’s neck. 

The Illyrian soldiers moved towards the Autumn Lord. Both males unsheathed a dagger to prepare for whatever threat stood before them, then took ahold of Eris with their free hand. Eris winnowed them away instantly, leaving Rhysand behind with the sisters.

This was a new kind of hell. Her sister’s life was in jeopardy and, being heavily pregnant, Feyre could offer no assistance. She would have to remain back here, helplessly. Do little more than standing by and waiting for someone to send word. 

Her stomach twisted in fear as she sought out Rhysand’s gaze. Feyre wasn’t a fool, she knew that her mate never warmed to Nesta. He lay the blame for Feyre’s troubled childhood directly at her sister’s feet. He wasn’t exactly pained when Nesta left the Night Court of her own violation. Still, Rhysand wouldn’t want to see harm befall her sister. 

_Right?_

“Please keep Nesta safe and bring her home. _Please._ ” Feyre begged.

“No one will threaten your family without consequences.” Rhysand warned in a voice that promised violence. 

Eris appeared then, as suddenly as he disappeared. The air was palpable with the animosity between the High Lords. Eris didn’t bother to hide his disgust as he held out a hand towards Rhysand. The current predicament may have created a temporary alliance, but Feyre knew intrinsically that it would end the moment her Nesta was safe. She didn’t know how Eris managed to insert himself in her family’s affairs, but Feyre would put a stop to that when Nesta was back home. 

Rhys arranged his face in a carefully neutral expression, taking care to mask his displeasure of Eris, but Feuyre could feel the truth of his emotions through their bond. This was the _last_ fae they wanted to rely on. 

Eris clutched Rhys’ wrist and then, to Feyre’s surprise, he turned to address the sisters. 

“We’ll save Nesta. I’ll see to that myself.” The High Lord of Autumn promised vehemently, his voice thick with raw conviction. 

And then, without further warning, the males winnowed away. 

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

  
  
Twilight was Nesta’s favouite time of day. 

There was something special about the moment when daylight gave way to darkness, when the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the evening sky in soft shades of purple and pink and orange. It was the time of day when anything seemed possible. Nesta had felt that way ever since she was a small child, back when the magic had been little more than the trappings of fairy tales and boogeymen. Things had changed since her youth, obviously, with magic being the most notable metamorphosis. The cauldron had given her a source of real, tangible magic and Nesta had become very, _very_ good at wielding it. But, despite all the challenges and changes that were thrust upon her, she could still be mesmerized by a pretty sunset. 

Helion’s gardens offered the best view to admire the setting sun. It wasn’t unusual to find her out here whenever she had free time, and today was no exception. The house felt strangely empty after the males winnowed away. The silence left in their absence had been almost deafening. Nesta thought to distract herself by grabbing a dog-eared book and headed out to the gardens to while away the evening. It was her favouite book; a dashing tale of romance that she first became acquainted with back in the mortal world, but even the familiar storylines and characters weren’t enough to pull her mind away from her misgivings. She eventually gave up completely after re-reading the same paragraph six times in a row, choosing to turn her attention towards the horizon. The sky had taken on that magical quality, and she wished Cassian was here to share it with her. 

And there she was; thinking of Cassian yet again. Even though she spent the better part of the past three years running from the male, he’d occupy her thoughts way more often then she was willing to admit. Now that they were reunited he’d basically taken up residences in her head. It was strange, almost scary, how quickly she became acclimated to Cassian’s heady presence. Their years-long separation had made almost no impact on their friendship. Relationship. _Whateve_ r they were. At the end of the day Cassian had inserted himself back in her life and they’d quickly fallen back into their old routine. Not quite friends. Not quite lovers. 

At least, not _yet._

Cassian wanted to talk about their future as soon as he was back from the Summer Court. There was a small part of her that was, perhaps strictly out of habit, still a little hesitant about the whole ordeal. But overall Nesta felt excited, even a little hopeful. Her. Nesta. _Hopeful about the future!_ There were about a thousand other things that she should be focused on, yet here she was mooning over Cassian like some silly lovestruck girl from the village. 

Besides, she couldn’t ignore the few but _significant_ complications that stood in the way of their maybe-relationship. While these obstacles weren’t necessarily her _fault,_ it didn’t make them any less real. Especially when the obstacle came in the shape of a one hundred and eighty five centimeter tall male. Nesta knew that she would have to come clean about Eris, preferable as soon as Cassain returned to Day. She was done with hiding secrets. Cassian had chased after her the moment she ran from Velaris. Surely he’d understand her position. 

Right? 

That train of thought was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Startled, Nesta turned in her chair in time to see Helion approach. She rose to her feet, the romance novel left abandoned at her side.

“Helion?” She called out tentatively “Is everything alright?”

The High Lord of Day approached with a weary smile on his face, looking tired beyond his years. He’d promise to send word after meeting with the other High Lords, but she presumed it would have taken much longer than this. _Especially_ knowing that Feyre was a member of the audience. She thought her baby sister would have pressed Helion for information well into the evening.

“All is well, dear. I actually have some good news to report.” Helion told her as he hurried over. 

_Wait, what?_

Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach as Helion’s words sank in. She didn’t think it would be this easy. _Refused_ to believe it would be this easy. Yet here was her friend and mentor with a peaceful expression settling onto his formerly tired face. Helion gave her a reassuring nod as he spread his arms out wide, beckoning her towards him. Hope rose in her chest and Nesta sprinted into his arms with an elated squeal. 

“It’s almost over now, Sweetling.” He whispered into her Nesta’s hair as he wrapped a muscular arm around her, pulling Nesta in close. Relief washed over her as she leaned into his embrace. 

She didn’t see it coming. 

The sharp burning in her side was instantaneous and unexpected, so overwhelming that Nesta’s knees buckled under her weight. Nesta collapsed against Helion, would have slipped to the ground completely if it wasn’t for his supporting embrace. He held her in his arms as the world swirled out from under her. Nesta opened up her mouth to warn him, to cry out, anything but nothing came out. She only could only draw in a pitiful amount of air. 

_Oh gods. Oh gods._ What was happening? 

Nesta was afraid to look down. Didn’t want to see what caused the pain in her side. Instead her hand fluttered to her hip, right under the burning sensation. Her palm came away wet. _Why was her palm wet?_

Despite the heat of the evening, despite the burning in her side, cold sweat broke out along her clammy skin. She began to shiver as she tilted her head back to meet Helion’s golden gaze. He quietly surveyed her with that unchanging placid expression, and then Nesta understood what happened. Her brain recognized what her heart still refused to believe. It wasn’t possible. Not Helion. _Not Helion._

“Helion?” She asked weakly, her voice sounding very far away. 

“It’s over now, Nesta.” He told her in a soothing voice, brushing a fatherly kiss across her forehead. “I made you a promise and I kept it. Just like I said I would.” 

Except Helion was _wrong_. She didn’t want this. Not now. Not like this. Nesta just wanted to go home. 

_I wanna go home._

Nesta shivered. It was cold. It was cold and Nesta was tired. Things were getting fuzzy now. Her lids were getting heavy. She knew she should keep her eyes open, but couldn’t remember why that was important. Nesta was tired. She was so tired. She just needed to sleep. _Just for a little bit. Just a little bit._

And then Nesta slipped away into darkness. 

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Cassian**

  
  


_Helion’s Private Estate_

_The Day Court_

  
  


Nesta wasn’t in the main house. 

He had led Azriel into Helion’s estate the moment Eris winnowed them into the Day Court. Cassian didn’t know which room belonged to Nesta so they called out to her as they swept the rooms, floor by floor. The house wasn’t completely empty. They came across a few frightened servants during their investigation. They claimed to not know where Nesta was and Cassian believed them, the scent of their fear was overpowering. Azriel dismissed the servants with a jerk of his head, ordering them outside. They didn’t hesitate, quickly scattering out the door towards freedom. 

Cassian tore into the last bedroom on the uppermost level. It was empty, just like the others. He viciously kicked a decorative stool in frustration, sending it shattering across the opposing wall. 

“She’s not here” Cassian barked out in fury, clenching his hands into fists at his side. Nesta was somewhere here - _in danger_ \- and he couldn’t find her. 

“Snap out of it.” Azriel reprimanded, shaking Cassian from his reverie. His brother had a point; Cassain needed to stay focused, now was _not_ the time to become overwhelmed by emotion. Fear wouldn’t help Nesta., it would just get her killed. ”Where else can she be?”

A memory came roaring back to Cassian. A grouping of large blue flowers, the colour of Azriel’s Siphons. _“Whenever I’m feeling homesick, I come here to see the flowers.”_

“The gardens.” Cassian announced sharply. “Nesta likes to spend time in the gardens.”

Both males turned to face the window in unison. It was large enough to slip out of, exiting here would save precious seconds. Cassian slammed open the window, the glass rattling in its casing as he slipped outside and took flight. Azriel was right beside him as they skyrocketed towards the distant hedge maze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the landscape in shadows. He squinted as he searched the grounds for signs of movement. The outline of a distant figure caught his attention. He signaled Azriel to change directions and veered away, landing near the pool. 

There was a male kneeling down on the ground, bent over as if in pain. Was that... _Helion_ ? A wave of confusion passed over Cassian. Helion wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in the Summer Court, convincing Tarquin to bring their case before the High Lords. But then his brain caught up to him and horror flooded senses. Helion was hunched over a boneless figure. Nesta was sprawled out, her head and shoulders resting in his lap. She was unconscious, her slender arms hanging limply at her sides. Were they too late? _No._ It was impossible, he refused to believe it. Helion raised his head as soon as Cassian slammed into the ground. Even in the dwindling light he could tell that the High Lord’s eyes were wet with tears. Az landed at his side a moment later. 

“I had no choice. There _was_ no choice. Nesta would have wanted me to put Prythain first. She prioritized the safety of thousands over the safety of one.” Helion’s voice was hoarse, turning Cassian’s veins to ice. The High Lord of Day looked sad but without a shred of remorse, before turning his attention to Azriel. “Your wife confirmed _everything_ to me. She foresaw Nesta joining the witches, just like they foretold. It would have led to the downfall of Prythian. _I had no choice_.”

Cassian’s Siphons flared to life, bathing the High Lord of Day in a crimson light. Helion _hurt_ her. The traitorous bastard dared to _touch_ Nesta after hurting her. Cassian could see her injury all too clearly. Could see the wet bloodstain blossoming out from the dagger in her side. She was hurt. 

His mate was _hurt._

Cassian snarled at the High Lord as his vision turned red, rage rushing in and taking over his senses. Azriel must have sensed him rapidly losing control; he put a crushing grip on Cassian’s shoulder, holding the enraged male locked in place. No, _no._ He needed to calm down. He couldn’t make a move against Helion, not when Nesta was still vulnerable in his arms. 

“Let her go.” Azriel ordered. “Let her go, and step away.”

The High Lord of Day blinked at the command, before dropping his gaze to the unconscious female in his arms. _Mother above, let her just be sleeping. Let me save her._

“I should teach you why it’s ill-advised to make demands on a High Lord in his own home.” Helion remarked in an indifferent tone, as if they were discussing trivial matters like the weather. 

The High Lord brushed a kiss over her forehead before gently lowering her to the ground. Nesta’s head rolled bonelessly towards the Illyrians, fer lovely face much too pate. Helion pushed himself to his feet, his white toga stained with Nesta’s blood. 

“I do not wish to fight you boys. You cannot defend against me, and I have no wish to shed further blood this day.” Helion warned as he took two steps back.

Azriel released his grip and Cassian was at Nesta’s side in an instant. _No no no no,_ he thought frantically as he gathered her up into his arms, mindful of the dagger in her side. The blade was impaled deep, the damage would be extensive. He planned out the next crucial steps as he searched for a pulse. _Don’t take out the dagger right now, that will do more damage than good. Leave it for the healer. Stanch the flow of blood and get her to a healer._

“Is she alive?” Az asked hesitatingly.

Cassian could have weeped. There was a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Nesta still lived. He could save her. They still had time. 

“Yes.” Cassian breathed out.

“Well,” drawled Helion, “that’s a shame now, isn’t it?”

Cassian’s head jerked up towards the High Lord of Day. Helion stood a few feet away, looking down at them with an expression of grim determination. _He’d thought Nesta was already dead,_ Cassian realized belatedly as he pulled Nesta closer to his chest, _he’d thought she was dead, and now he’s going to finish the job._ This was bad. This was so, so bad. Cassian was on the ground, his hands full with Nesta and all within reach of the male who tried to kill her. They were totally exposed, completely vulnerable. Cassian wasn’t in position to fight Helion, leaving only Azriel to see to their defences. 

Just one male.

Against a High Lord whose sole mission was ending Nesta’s life. 

Abruptly, a blinding flash of light shot over Cassian’s shoulder, temportialy dazing him. Helion let out a howl of unadulterated rage as Cassian scrambled back, all the while keeping Nesta cradled against his chest. He blinked rapidly, trying to recover his vision as he regained his feet. Cassian carefully backed away, unwilling to take his eyes off Helion for even a second. The High Lord of Day paid him no heed, too busy clutching both hands to his face in apparent agony. Cassian took the opportunity to slip behind Azriel.

Helion dropped his hands, clenched into talons, to reveal his ruined face. The smell of charred hair began to wharf over. He had been burned, his ravaged face distorted in fury. The High Lord of Day was _enraged._ His irr wasn’t focused on the Illyrians, but rather the unannounced presence behind them.

“Stay _the fuck_ away from them.” Warned the High Lord of Autumn, voice low and deadly. 

Never once in his life did Cassian ever imagine he would be overjoyed at the arrival of Eris Vanserra, but at that moment he was willing to fall to his feet and declare his undying loyalty. Helion was now wholly focused on the newcomers, ignoring Nesta completely, eyes blazing with hatred.

“You _dare_ attack me in my own home, whelp?” hissed Helion.

“You told the Illyrains this would be an unfair fight. I’ve come to even out the odds.” Eris replied smoothly as he came to stand at Cassain’s side. The High Lord of Autumn’s hand, stretched out towards Helion, was wrapped in a living flame. The warning was implicit. Eris spared them a quick glance, his eyes momentarily stopping on the dagger embedded in Nesta’s side, before sliding back towards the adversary before them. “You threaten Nesta, you threaten _me._ ”

Cassian sucked in a breath and he shifted Nesta in his arms. He wasn’t sure how Nesta managed to win Eris’ unwavering support, but all of that could wait. He needed to staunch her bleeding. There were no clean bandages at hand; he'd have to forgo all that, focus on putting pressure on the wound and worry about infection later. Gritting his teeth, he gathered the fabric of her skirts and pressed down around the dagger, causing Nesta to whimper. Her eyes fluttered momentarily but remained shut. Cassian was grateful that, at minimum, she wasn’t conscious enough to feel the pain. 

Rhysand joined Cassian’s other side, arms held up in preparation of an attack. The High Lords of Night and Autumn had taken a defensive position around him, with Azriel stepping in front. They made for strange bedfellows, but all were prepared to defend Nesta from further attack. Cassian bit back a sigh of relief, the odds were suddenly much more favourable. 

“ _You_ are the male who had the audacity to walk into Night Court chambers, beg for my assistance, and then turn around and attack my mate’s sister.” Rhysand snarled, voice dark as night. “ _You_ threaten a weakened, defenseless female. A female who, by your own admission, came to us in search of _help_.”

Heloin had stiffened at Rhysand’s appearance, dropping his hands to his side. His gaze fell to Nesta and a look of regret passed over his blistering face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Perhaps he regretted his action. Or perhaps he was beginning to understand how greatly outnumbered he truly was. Helion touched his cheek, and winced slightly when he made contact with singed flesh. 

“Nesta made her wishes clear a long time ago, she’d rather die than fall under the command of the witches. A noble ending, for a noble female.” Helion had the decency to appear mournful. “Let me give her the dignity of a clean death.”

Cassian's heart pitched and Eris reacted immediately, his flames bolstering in anger. 

“That’s _bullshit_ and you know it. That was nothing more than a frightened plea from a frightened girl. Nesta was hysterical, she hadn’t slept for _weeks_ at that point. She’d have given anything for a moment of serenity. That vow was made in bad faith and _you know it._ ” Eris snapped, impugning Helion’s excuses with ease. 

Beside him, Rhysand had listened to Eris’ commentary with growing unease. His reaction was subtle, but Cassain had called Rhys brother for over five hundred years and knew all of his tics and hidden tells. Rhysand’s gaze had remained fixed upon Helion, his guarded appearance giving away little. But Cassian saw the way Rhys’ shoulder tightened during Eris’ speech. Saw the way his jaw clenched when Eris spoke of Nesta’s torment. Rhysand may never come to love Nesta, but his High Lord was moved by her plight. 

“What Nesta desires is unimportant.” Helion aruged. “She _will_ fall under the control of the Mortal Queens. The witches have foretold it and the Night Court’s seer has confirmed it. The threat of war will stop being hypothetical and become very, _very_ real once Nesta falls to the humans. Prythian _will_ fall, regardless of how many little summits we deign to hold.” 

“Are you so frightened of prophecies and prognostications that you’ll cut down your friends and allies?” Eris ridiculed, tone thick with underlying anger. 

“Yes.” Helion countered matter-of-factly. “With Nesta under their command, the Queens can launch a direct attack on any city. Entire armies could appear without prior warning. That is not to be discounted. Are you willing to risk your court? Your people? Your _mother?_ ” 

“You’re a weak, feeble little male.” Eris spat, and Cassian half-expected the younger High Lord to throw himself at Helion. “Your altruistic persona is nothing but a charade. Make all the magnanimous speeches you like, it doesn’t hide the fact that you’re a _fucking coward_ . You claim to put your people first but it’s all _bullshit_. You sell out and abandon everyone at the first sniff of trouble. You did it to my mother, you did it to Nesta. I’ll burn in hell before I let you do it again”

Rhysand startled at Eris’s diatribe. Cassian had no context for Autumn Lord’s words, didn't know what happened to the Lady of Autumn. He also didn’t care. The only thing that matters was getting Nesta away. 

Every minute spent arguing was a minute Nesta spent bleeding out. He’d spent too much time on the frontline, was more than familiar with battlefield trilage. The amount of blood soaking into clothing was worrisome. The hand applying pressure to the wound was slick with blood, blood which had stained his wrist and was dripping into the ground. _I need to get out of here. I need to get her to a healer._

Cassian couldn’t winnow. Flight was too risky in an unfamiliar territory. They needed to get her out of there before she bled out. Cassian redoubled his effort to stanch her bleeding, pressing down even further on her weeping wound. She didn’t react at all, not even unconsciously. Her face was stark white, her lips were bloodless. They were out of time. 

“Rhys,” he murmured, quietly but forcefully, “she needs a healer. We need to go. _Now.”_

Rhysand’s gaze flicked to Cassian and then down to the female bleeding out in his arms, his jaw clenching in anger. His violet eyes flashed back to Helion, assessing the male who still refused to back down They were at a stalemate. 

And then Rhys flicked his wrist and Helion’s headdress exploded into a shower of golden dust. Helion jerked back in shock, his burnt hand flying to the crown of his head, searching for the headdress and coming up empty. The granular remains of Helion’s crown drifted away on the evening breeze, nothing more than dust.

 _Rhysand misted Helion’s crown as it sat atop his head._ Cassian starred in awe. _The control that must have taken…_

“That was your first and only warning, Helion. You can walk away now and let us leave peacefully. Fight us, and the Day Court will be crowning a new High Lord much sooner than anyone expected.” Rhysand warned.

Helion’s mouth dropped open to gape Rhys. Even Eris took an unconscious step back away. Finally, _finally,_ Helion spread out his hands in a show of passivity. 

“Leave my court.” Helion ordered in a firm voice, his underlying fear divulged by the slight shake of his hands. “Leave the Day Court and never return. But remember: you reap what you sow. Nesta _will_ fall to the Mortal Queens and once she calls them master, all of Prythian will be lost.”

And then Helion winnowed away.

Cassian let out a breath shaky breath. Eris Vanserra at his side in an instant, amber eyes locked on Nesta. The High Lord reached out his hand to touch her face, and Cassian pulled Nesta away reflectively. Azriel intervened by physically placing himself between the High Lord of Autumn and Cassian. Eris looked like he was about to protest before thinking better of it, stepping back with a guarded expression. It was probably not the best way to thank the male who helped save his mate, but basic civility was low on Cassian’s current list of priorities. 

Eris, for his part, did his best to ignore the two scowling Illyrian soldiers. Rhysand cleared his throat as he joined their little circle, possibly trying to break the tension that had been rising since Elain’s declaration earlier that day. 

“It’s best to not return to the Summer Court now.” Eris suggested. “Helion’s suites are too close to ours. We need to keep Nesta away from Helion’s reach, just in case that bastard has a change of heart.”

Rhysand nodded his head in agreement. “Let’s take her back to Velaris. We have a healer in our private residence to assist with Feyre’s pregnancy, and she proved to be invaluable when healing soldiers during the war with Hybern.”

Cassian fully expected Eris to protest but, against all odds, he merely nodded his head in agreement. Cassian had the uncomfortable realization that Eris would need to winnow someone back home if they were to set off without delay. Azriel’s shadows swirled around as he came to the same conclusion. While Cassian was grateful for Eris’ unexpected assistance, it was clear that Az wasn’t quite ready to forget their five hundred years of history. 

Rhysand, bless him, stepped in before things became awkward. He threw an arm around Az’s shoulder while addressing Eris. 

“Do you remember the House Of Wind, back when I hosted the High Lord’s meeting? Can you winnow Cassian and Nesta there? I’ll take Nesta to the healer once we're back in the Night Court. These two can lead the way from there.”

Eris gave Rhysand a tight nod before focusing his attention back on Nesta. His throat bobbed as he took in the sheer amount of blood loss. Her gown was drenched, Cassian's himself fairing little better. Eris held out his hands, beckoning for Nesta to be placed into his arms. Cassian shoved down a wave of resentment, bickering now would only waste precious seconds. He carefully deposited Nesta into Eris’ arms while simultaneously keeping pressure on her wound. 

Nesta didn’t stir during the exchange. She was completely comatose. Eris’ eyes widened as he stared down at her, so small within their arms. Cassian wrapped his free arm around Eris’ back, with Nesta snuggled between the two. Then he did the one thing he swore to never do: he begged another male for assistance. 

“Eris, bring her home before we lose her.” He pleaded, voice rough. “ _Please._ ”

Eris gave a tight nod and winnowed them away. 

And then, after three long years, Cassian brought Nesta home to Velaris. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the unexpected delay and I wanted to thank you for sticking with me. 
> 
> It's winter break in my little neck of the world, and with the Holidays comes chaos. I'm going to play it safe and say its likely the next two chapters will be posted bi-weekly, returning to my normal weekly schedule once things calm down on my end. *fingers crossed*
> 
> I hope you have a safe and happy holidays. I'll see you in 2021.
> 
> _The next chapter is titled: The City of Starlight_   
>  _If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking and commenting_


	8. The City of Starlight

~~~~~~~

**Eris**

_Three years prior_

_They had been riding since before sunrise._

_That, in and of itself, wasn’t wholly unusual. He'd often accompany the sentries when they went out on patrol. In fact, Eris had made a point to ride out with his men whenever he was available, which was becoming something of a rarity these days. His father Beron, The High Lord of Autumn, had been tasking Eris with more frivolous assignments as of late, and long weeks had passed since he last patrolled the Autumn Court._

_A suspicious part of his mind couldn’t help but wonder if the superfluous scutwork was a new method of control; a way to keep Eris occupied and, therefore, away from border patrol. His father saw guard duty as below his station, something Eris vehemently disagreed with. What better way to learn the lay of the land and the needs of its people, then to be out amongst them? His brothers certainly didn’t agree. They’d prefer to while away the days locked away in their golden tower of Forest House, happily ignorant of the trials and tribulations of the lesser fae who broke their backs working the land._

_No, Eris preferred a different path. He wanted to know the current challenges that their people faced. Wanted to stay apprised of any threats to the Autumn Court, be it internal or external. Joining the sentries on patrol was the most effective way to reach his goals. Villagers were more willing to open up to watchful sentinels. A bedecked High Lord’s son? Not so much._

_So he’d practically jumped at the opportunity when his father suggested that he lead the morning patrol. Eris didn’t even care if it resulted in more busy work, he’d happily accept the consequences if it meant getting back outside and connecting with the people. What he_ didn’t _expect was Beron declaring his intention to join the group. He didn’t believe it last night, and he almost didn’t believe it now, even as the old male rode beside him, wheezing and being generally unpleasant._

_“Are you comfortable, father?” Eris asked, his voice low enough to ensure only Beron would hear him._

_His father stiffly turned in his saddle to shoot his eldest son a glare._

_“I’ve been riding since before you were a twinkle in the my eye.” The old bastard spat out, as if Beron’s discomfort hadn’t been obvious for some time now._

_The High Lord of Autumn may have been a proficient rider before his Lady Mother conceived him, but the old prick hadn’t ridden in decades and was clearly out of practice. Eris wasn’t even sure_ why _Berson demanded to join the patrol. He’d never done so before, and with every mile, it was becoming apparent that the old fucker was slowing everyone down._

_Eris had tried to suggest that Beron winnow ahead to the inn, located just under a day's ride from here. It would be more comfortable for everyone involved; he was sure the guardsmen would be relieved to be rid of the old prick’s presence, Eris certainly would be. And since it wasn’t practical to winnow the entire squadron, Eris had the perfect excuse to stay back and tend to the horses. Not to mention the act of winnowing itself would defeat the purpose of patrolling, but he wasn’t about to split hairs if it meant ridding himself of the old bastard._

_Beron simply leaned over and spat a wad of mucus on the ground._

_“We stay together, boy.” Beron grumbled._

_And that was that._

_Eris rode on in silence from that point on, only breaking to water the horses. The small group ate their rations of bread and cheese in the saddle to make up for lost time. Even Beron partook in the midday meal, although Eris could hear the old prick gripe under his breath. Still, it wasn’t enough to cover lost ground and eventually their sluggish pace could no longer be ignored. Beron relented and agreed to send their fastest scout ahead to warn of the delay, yet the High Lord still remained tight-lipped about the purpose of this trip._

_Frustrated with his father’s lack of directive, Eris gave a silent command for the closest sentries to fall back. His patience had run short. Enough was enough; it was time for Beron to reveal the purpose of this trip, or he would leave the bastard behind without further regard._

_“Father,” he began, careful that his voice held the proper amount of deference, “surely it’s safe for you to declare your intentions. We’re miles away from the next town, and the guards are not within hearing range. What are we doing out here?”_

_Every fae present would willingly lay down their life for their High Lord, but Beron would never recognize that fact. He trusted no one; not his guards, not the Royal Court, certainly not his own flesh and blood. His father persisted in a state of perpetual scepticism and mistrust. It was how he managed to maintain his throne for so long, but in doing so he’d alienated everyone._

_That was one of many,_ many _things that Eris hated about Beron._

_His father rode silently beside him for several moments, with only the sound of the old fucker’s laboured breathing filling the air. The High Lord would be stiff tomorrow, probably unable to throw a leg over the horse. If the Cauldron blessed them all, Beron would fall right off of his gelding and break his neck._

_That was his line of thought, but out loud Eris simply asked: “Did you hear me father?”_

_The prick merely tossed his head to the side and spat another wad of phlegm onto the ground. Eris’ mouth curled up in disgust, but he’d wait patiently. Beron would freeze up and refuse to utter a single word if he felt even_ slightly _nagged. The old cunt had the maturity of a human toddler. Thankfully, Beron didn’t make Eris wait too long._

_“I’ve received word from an innkeeper near the mortal border.” Berson began carefully, as if it pained him to speak. Eris nodded impatiently, he’d already known their destination, was more interested in the reason behind it. Patrols near the border were a daily occurrence, but patrols that included a High Lord? Not so much. “In a bid to earn my favour, the innkeeper sent a missive as soon as they realized the identity of their newest boarder. I’ve sent my personal guards ahead to secure the situation. Now they wait for my arrival.”_

_Eris didn’t bother masking his displeasure at Beron’s statement. He wasn’t surprised by the proprietor’s actions; he wouldn’t be the first fae to attempt to curry favour in this manner, but this type of behaviour had long since troubled Eris. The labourers of the Autumn Court were downtrodden. Too many would eagerly sell out a friend or neighbour for a scrap of favour._

_But there was something about Beron’s cagey countenance that set off warning bell’s. The cunning fucker’s face was plastered in a self-serving grin, as is he struggled to contain his glee. That shifty grin, paired with Beron’s decision to ride out amongst the sentinels, was deepening Eris’ unease. It felt like a bad omen. Like something terrible was about to occur._

_“Father, who are we riding out to meet?” Eris asked, almost reluctantly._

_Beron merely turned to face him, the grin slowly spreading into a harrowing smile._

_“Someone who will change our future, son.” replied Beron Vanserra, and Eris’ malaise deepened ten-fold. “Someone who will change_ everything. _”_

  
  


_~_

  
  


_The High Lord & Lady's Residence _

_The Night Court_

The sound of shattering glass ripped Eris away from out of reverie. He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself after mentally drifting off for a few minutes. It didn’t take long to catch sight of the source of his disturbance; a servant had dropped a serving tray, sending a pitcher of water shattering across the floor and sending water everywhere. The servant made eye contact with Eris from across the room, a look of pure fear shadowing her face. 

“I’m sorry, my lord…” she stuttered as she knelt down to pick up shards of broken glass, “I meant to leave some refreshments for your return. I… I didn’t realize that you were already back in Velaris.”

Eris merely waved his hand, evaporating the spilled water and leaving behind the broken shards for the young female to clear away. It was obvious that the servant was terrified of him, but he couldn’t quite blame her. After all, why would anyone from the Night Court willingly serve Eris Vanserra?

“Your High Lord is aware of my return.” He informed her, arching a red-gold brow. “It’s a pity no one bothered to inform you as well. I’m sure you would have appreciated a warning before being thrown into the wolf’s den.”

The already nervous servant paled even further, and Eris had a very real concern that she was going to cut herself in her haste to clean up the broken shards. He took pity on the younger fae, lifting his hands as a display of submissiveness, making himself appear as harmless as a newborn fawn. 

It was total bullshit, of course, but there was no reason to frighten her any further. 

“Worry not, child. I’m merely waiting for word on your High Lady’s sister. You can go about your business. I do not wish to trouble you.”

The young servant let out a grateful breath and set to work tidying up the remaining mess. Eris turned around and dismissed her from his mind outright, turning his thoughts back to the previous night, trying to sort the blurry details into a semblance of order.

The first few hours from his arrival into Velaris had been much of a blur. Rhysand had winnowed Nesta away the second they arrived in the Night Court and Eris became uncomfortably aware that he was now alone with the Illyrians. Their troubled history stretched back into their respective childhoods, and almost every interaction since had been fraught with violence. Despite that fact, Eris had been so preoccupied with Nesta’s injury that he hadn't given the Illyrians a second thought. It was sloppy, really, but everyone else had become background noise the moment he found Nesta bleeding out in the Day Court. 

His hackles began to rise when he turned around and found both males staring him down. Eris took an unconscious step back as reality came crashing down; he was alone in enemy territory, surrounded by very males whose life's passion was their never-ending attempts to beat the living daylights out of him, regardless of their setting or company. 

Still, Nesta was somewhere in Velaris. He couldn't very well abandon her. 

The Bastard’s attention was locked on Eris, scrutinizing every single facial movement with a blazing intensity. The Illyrian was too astute, too observant. He seemed to read every hidden truth in the planes of Eris' face, while his own stoic countenance remained unknowable. However, the Bastard must have found something satisfactory in Eris demeanor because, for the first time ever, he offered up a truce. 

“I’ll take you to Nesta.” The Bastard offered without preamble. 

And that was that.

The Quiet One chose that moment to disappeared, probably crawling back to whatever hellscape he called home, and then Eris spent the next ten minutes in the most uncomfortable situation that he’d ever faced. The Bastard simply hauled Eris up and flew them towards his High Lord’s manor on the outskirts of the city. Eris spent the entire flight swaying between two vexing mindsets; pure mortification at the strange intimacy flying that with the Bastard produced, or horrified at the realization that the Illyrain could simply drop him mid-air, leaving Eris to plummet to an untimely death. 

The Illyrian, for his part, simply ignored Eris, which made the whole ordeal slightly more bearable. Still, if he never flew again it would be too soon. He’d once remembered Nesta telling him that she hated flying. 

_Nesta…_

Eris gave his head a shake as the Bastard touched down outside the entrance to a large estate. This must be Rhysand’s personal home. The Illyian hadn’t spared him a second glance after depositing him on the ground. He was off and running, leaving Eris little choice but to chase after the wily fucker. Eris tore after the Illyrian, entering a massive foyer just in time to spot him him running up a grand staircase, taking the steps two or three at a time. He was fast, but then so was Eris. He stayed hot on the Illyrians heels, keeping pace as they made their way through the winding interior of the estate. 

After a few minutes - the house was large, but nothing in comparison to Forest House - the Bastard skidded to a halt in front an ornate set of double doors. He’d cast a quick look over his shoulder to confirm that Eris had managed to keep up, then rapped on the door with a heavy hand. 

The doors swung open to reveal the tear-streaked face of the High Lady of the Night Court. She let out a garbled cry when she spotted Cassian and immediately threw herself into his arms. The Bastard stiffened immediately, the pungent scent of the Illyrian’s fear filling the small space, and Eris felt his heart drop into his stomach. 

“Is Nesta…” The Bastard grunted before trailing off, unable to ask the question that Eris was also thinking. 

“There’s no word yet. She’s in with Madja now, but I don’t know anything else. Rhysand came to fetch us after delivering Nesta to the heaters. Apparently someone will come out to talk to us shortly.” Feyre informed the Bastard, before apparently noticing Eris standing in the background. “ _Oh_. Eris. I...I didn’t realize you were here.”

Feyre took a step to the side and gestured for the males to enter with a sweep of her arms. Even now, with her sister bleeding out in the next room, Feyre did her best to play the impeccable host. Well, impeccable as long as one ignored her blotchy, tear stained face. 

Eris followed the others into an antechamber, surreptitiously taking in the surroundings. It was a small sized sitting room, decorated in varying shades of blue and silver, with bright faelights chasing away the evening’s shadows. Several vases boasting colourful bouquets were scattered around the room. The walls proudly feature several prosaic oil paintings. Eris assumed they were painted by the High Lady herself, if her artistic reputation was anything to go by.

He stepped to the side, allowing Feyre to close the door behind him. She looked up at him and paused, as if not quite sure what to do with the unexpected guest. 

“Would you like to sit with us while we wait?” She trailed off for a moment, glancing around the room in search of inspiration, before adding. “Are you hungry? I can have Cerridwen bring up some light refreshments.”

Eris waved off her forced politeness, unwilling to play the role of honoured guest. He’d prefer to quietly stand aside while waiting for news on Nesta’s condition. The events of the evening had burned through his patience for false pleasantries, and besides, his bloodsoaked finery would likely stain the furniture. 

“That isn’t necessary, but I thank you for offering.” He replied cordially. Eris was guilty of many, _many_ abhorrent things though his long life, but his mother would be proud that he remembered his manners. 

Feyre nodded in understanding before her blue-gray eyes flickered back towards a closed door on the opposite wall. His own eyes followed, and it didn’t take long for Eris to guess what captured her attention. _Nesta is probably lying through those doors_ , he realized with sickening understanding. It was quiet on the other side of those doors. Much too quiet. _What can that mean, if only quiet persists…_

“Thank you for helping Nesta.” Feyre told him, breaking Eris away from his musings. Her throat bobbed, and Eris fretted that she was about to break into tears. He was never really good at comforting weeping females. “I don’t know how you became involved, but I’m grateful you were here to help.”

Eris blinked, startled by Feyre’s courteous acknowledgement. Not that their opinion held much weight, but it _was_ slightly disconcerting to suddenly be appreciated by the same people who happily played the role of nemesis. 

And now that he was truly looking at her, Eris was disconcerted by how closely Feyre resembled her sister. _She has Nesta’s eyes,_ he realized, taken aback. 

The entrance to the sitting room was flung open and the High Lord of the Night Court strutted into the room with his usual dramatic flare. He went directly to his wife’s side, brushing a kiss into her forehead while running a soothing arm down her back. The High Lord then tilted his head towards the Bastard in greeting, all the while ignoring Eris. Yet it was obvious that Rhysand took measures to keep his back away from Eris. Even here, amongst friends and family, he knew better than to drop his guard around Eris. 

Elain and her husband followed Rhysand into the antechamber, filling the room to capacity. Fuck, he hoped that was the last member of their cherished little friend circle to darken these doors. Mother help him if Morrigan decides to show her face. History had proven that the female was happy to incite violence against Eris, whenever they had the unfortunate occasion to meet. Apparently his former fiancee hated Nesta, so Eris’ lay odds of her arrival at no better than 50/50. 

But what was this? Judging by the way the Quiet One and his High Lord squared off, the newly arrived trio were in the middle of a heated conversation. Their arrival at Nesta’s sickbed, even Eris’ own presences, had seemingly done little to mitigate their argument. 

“This isn’t the proper time, brother. All of this should be addressed at a more appropriate opportunity, not while Nesta lies bleeding in the next room.” Argued the Quiet One as he wrapped a possessive arm around Elain. 

Rhysand snorted in condensing disbelief. 

“Did you ever stop to think that my mate’s sister would not be in that position if Elain had _bothered_ to keep us apprised of Nesta's movement? A single word of warning could have prevented all of this.” Rhysand raged, before turning the full force of his anger onto the weeping female. “I’ve stayed out of this affair out of respect for my mate, but all of that ends today. Your behaviour will not go unpunished.”

The Quiet One, Azriel, flexed his wings and in warning. Eris knew that look and was fairly certain that Elain, tucked away in her husband's arms, was the only thing holding Azriel back from violence. Feyre let out a little cry of alarm as she placed herself in front of Rhysand, while Bastard began to slowly circle the group, ready to intervene in the impending showdown. 

The situation was unravelling fast and a small part of Eris might have enjoyed watching their precious little Inner Circle self implode, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Feyre is not the only one who claims Nesta as kin.” Azriel reminded his High Lord. “I know you’re angry, brother, but do not think for one moment that I’ll allow you to take your frustrations out upon my wife. Any grievance levied upon Elain will be paid back threefold ” 

“ _I’m_ not the villain here.” Snapped Rhysand, and Eris shifted his weight uncomfortably. A fight was about to break out, and Nesta would kill him if he allowed her sisters to become hurt in the resulting melee. “Feyre spent years begging Elain for _a hint_ of Nesta’s well being. It was _Elain_ who chose to keep silent. It was _Elain_ who prioritized secrets over easing her own sister’s worry.”

_Wait, what?_

Eris started to interject, but Rhysand wasn’t finished with his little diatribe.

“It's also becoming clear that Elain already knew about Helion’s connection to Nesta. By her silence, Elain has shown more loyalty to Helion - the male who tried to _murder_ her sister - than to her own family.” 

That was apparently the comment that pushed the Spymaster a step too far. Azriel’s Siphons roared to life, painting the room in a deep shade of blue, as he pressed Elain behind him. Feyre made a little squake of panic as she attempted to shove Rhysand away, keeping herself a physical barrier between the two in a last ditch attempt to keep the males apart. They were seconds away from an all-out brawl, in a room that offered little for cover for the bystanders. The Bastard must have come to the same conclusion; weary resolve settled onto his face as he tensed up, telegraphing his intention to drag the females away from the impending fight. Everyone was preparing for an immediate altercation between the Spymaster and High lord. 

Everyone except Eris. 

He just burst into laughter. 

This was no polite chuckle. No, Eris had broken into a proper fit of laughter. The kind that made you bend over and clutch at your sides for relief. Eris’ reaction was so unexpected, the laughter so jarring, that it froze every other fae in their tracks. The spymaster and High Lord both dropped their fighting stance and looked at Eris with disbelief. Even Feyre’s mouth had dropped open to gape at the Autumn High Lord. Eris made a show of wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“You all really can’t be that stupid, can you?” Eris sneered.

Rhysand took that comment just as well as he expected, which was to say: not well at all. The High Lord of the Night Court immediately bristled at the taunt, indignity shading his face. Clearly Rhysand didn’t like being spoken down to, but his attention was now wholly on Eris, with just enough confusion to hold him back from violence. 

Just as Eris intended.

Well, he had their attention now so he might as well roll with it. There was zero upside to maintaining Helion’s secret, and Nesta would only thank him for clearing her sister’s name. Eris tapped a long finger against his cheek in a show of reflective amusement. 

“It was a geas. Surely this is obvious to you, no?” Eris asked, the slightest hint of mockery in his airy tone. He was met with confused stares, so he sighed theoretically and continued on. “Helion had ensorcelled Elain shortly after Nesta came into his service. The geas forbade Elain from relaying Nesta's current and future movements to anyone loyal to the Night Court. Elaine physically _couldn’t_ tell to you about Nesta, regardless of her wishes. The geas strictly forbid it. 

“Helion is a sly bastard; he placed strict conditions on the geas, allowing her just enough freedom of speech to keep any suspicions of spellwork at bay. Elain could speak about Nesta when it met certain conditions. She couldn’t bring up Nesta on her own, and Elain is only allowed to discuss past events with you. Helion also bound her from speaking of the geas itself. He didn’t want you figuring it out on your own. He knew the investigation would lead back to his door.” 

The small, petty part of Eris couldn’t help but feel smug at delivering that little tidbit of information. Shock and surprise coloured their faces, all but confirming that they hadn’t considered the possibility of a geas. 

Elain simply buried her head into her husband’s collarbone, shaking with either sorrow or relief. She had carried the weight of that particular secret for years. The Quiet One ran a reassuring hand over his wife’s back, all the while shooting a dubious glare at Eris. That really wasn’t fair, _Eris_ wasn’t responsible for ensorcelling his wife. 

The Autumn High Lord gave them another moment to digest the news before continuing on. 

“Helion feared Elain’s foresight would expose his arrangement with Nesta. As for Nesta; the witches were already breathing down her neck and she was afraid that Feyre would insert herself in that whole affair. Nesta would do anything to keep Feyre ignorant of her activities. Helion manipulated _both_ females to see the benefit of a geas.” 

“So that’s why Elain came to you when she foresaw Nesta’s death.” The Bastard muttered.

“ _I’m_ not loyal to the Night Court. The geas doesn’t apply to me.” Eris confirmed with a thin smile.

“What would you agree to such a thing?” Azriel asked his wife with an unexpected softness. “A geas is different from a curse. All parties must agree to it’s terms.”

Elain pulled back from her husband, her gaze falling to the floor in shame. 

“We used to meet in secret, Nesta and I, after she fled from Velaris.” Elain began softly, smiling sadly at a memory “She had these... grand plans. She wanted to make a name for herself, just like father. I hadn’t seen her like that - driven by purpose - since before the war.”

“She met with you?” Feyre asked, hurt apparent in her voice. “After she left Velaris?”

Elain nodded, unable to meet her younger sister’s eyes.

“Nesta didn’t plan to stay hidden for long, not at the beginning. She wanted to stand on her own two feet before sending word. I think that she mostly wanted to prove it to herself. But then....” Elain trailed off, and it became clear that her tongue was once again bound to silence by the geas. 

Eris sighed. Although he had long been aware of the existence of the geas, watching it play out in real time quickly became tiresome.

“You’re probably going to want to break the geas somehow, because I doubt Helion is willing to do it from his end.” Eris suggested helpfully, and was met with several hostile glares for his trouble. “Regardless, _I’m_ not bound by the terms of the geas. Elain can speak to me directly and I’ll be happy to pass along the message.”

“How did you become so knowledgeable about my sister’s history?” Feyre asked softly. “Autumn is not closely linked to the Day Court, at least no more than any of the other Seasonal Courts. You’ve never publicly allied with Helion since taking over the title of High Lord. So how did Helion come to trust you, a fae with no practical leadership experience?”

Eris frowned, taking surprising offence to the question. He was spared from answering by the sound of shuffling footsteps. The group's attention was immediately drawn to the entrance to Nesta’s infirmary. _Someone is approaching,_ Eris realized nervously as his stomach plummet to the ground. Sure enough, the door handle twisted briefly before swinging open to reveal a High Fae clad in healer’s garb. 

“I come with news.” She said. 

  
  


~

  
  


The healer, Madja, made quick work updating Nesta’s condition to her waiting friends and family. While Nesta was not quite out of the woods, they’d managed to remove the dagger and pack the wound to stem the bleeding. 

Madja made a point to credit the Bastard’s for his quick thinking when tending to Nesta in the Day Court. Cassian had applied direct pressure to the wound as soon as he found Nesta bleeding out, and that action had probably saved Nesta’s life. Eris found himself blinking back tears of relief. 

It was the healer’s opinion that Nesta faced two major challenges on her road to recovery. First was the substantial blood loss; best case scenario had Nesta recovering without further intervention, assuming that they successfully stached the bleeding and had Nesta suffered no further complications. It could take weeks for Nesta to naturally replenish her blood levels, so Madja recommended bed rest and plenty of fluids to help aid in healing. 

The second, more troublesome concern was the stab wound itself. The blade had pierced Nesta’s intestines, perforating the bowel. Madja had repaired the wound, but not before some of the contents had spilled into her abdominal cavity. Infection was the biggest concern, meaning Nesta required round-the-clock treatment to ward off sepsis, something which could easily kill if not caught early. It would be touch and go for a few days, even longer for a full recovery, but Madja remained optimistic about Nesta’s prognosis. 

“Can we see her now?” The bastard asked, his rough voice hinted at the flurry of emotions under his stoic exterior. 

Madja gave a small shake of her head. 

“It’s still too soon. We need to ensure that blood loss has ceased, before taking further measures to ward off infection. Now is a critical time for the patient's healing, and I must priortize the healer's ability to work uninterrupted.”

The bastard frowned, clearly unhappy with the response, but remained in his seat without further complaint. Madja tried to answer a few more questions about Nesta’s conditions but wasn’t able to provide a clear response other than ‘ _let’s wait and see_ ’. 

“How long until we can reasonably expect to visit her?” Feyre asked.

The healer tilted her head in thought. 

“Realistically? Two or three more hours, and then only for a moment. We’ll need to clean and re-dress the wounds after we’ve finished working on her. I should warn now that Nesta will likely be unconscious for a day or two. This may be alarming to witness, but we’ve induced a sleep state to assist in her recovery.”

“So I have, at minimum, three hours to pass before I’m allowed to see her?” Eris reiterated.

Madja nodded in confirmation before excusing herself to tend to Nesta. The present members of the inner circle began to murmur amongst themselves, either discussing Nesta’s treatment or giving thanks that she had come through successfully. Eris had no time for idle chit chat. He sought out Rhysand’s attention and jerked his head towards the door, wanting to speak to the other High Lord in a more private environment. Rhysand frowned, but stood up and followed Eris into the hallway without complaint. 

“How strong are Velaris’ wards?” Eris asked without preamble. 

The High Lord of the Night Court arched a brow at the strange line on questioning, dropping his hands into his pockets in an air of affected casualness. 

“Strong enough to remain undetected from the rest of Prythian for untold centuries'' Rhysand remarked loftily with a mild shrug. 

Eris had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

“But are they strong enough to keep Nesta hidden from witches? They can trace her using blood magic. Can your wards shield from that type of spellwork?” He pressed further. 

Rhysand straightened his shoulders, dropping the act of indifferent stoicism. 

“ _Blood magic?_ ” Rhysand uttered, dismayed. He furrowed his brows, thoughtful. “The wards have protected the city for over a thousand years. I would assume they’re effective against witches, but I’ll have to confirm with the scholars. Do you know the details on the spell used?”

Eris shook his head, angry at himself. He’d been sloppy - content to let Helion ward Forest House without bothering to learn anything about the spellwork involved. He’d foolishly trusted Helion to manage that particular detail, too busy with other matters of court to pay it further heed. It was a bush league mistake, one of many he apparently made in the early days of his leadership.

“I’ll need to return to the Autumn Court shortly. Helion should know better than to come sniffing around, but I need to protect my people on the off-chance that he shows up.”

Rhysand gave an assenting nod.

“It’s a smart move. I would think Helion isn’t the type of male to seek revenge, but before tonight I would have told you he wasn’t the type of male to go around stabbing defenceless females.” He then ran an calculating eye over Eris. “You were a real asset today. I don’t want to think about how Feyre would have managed, if you weren’t here to help out. I won’t forget that Eris.”

“It was my pleasure, and in return I will only ask for one thing: permission to freely come and go, for as long as Nesta is convalescing in Velaris.” 

Rhysand eyes narrowed. The High Lord of Night clearly assumed Eris would leave without further ado. Did he truly expect Eris to sit idly by, content to be appraised of Nesta's conditions by messengers and missives? 

“You seek permission to return to Velaris?” Rhysand echoed suspiciously. 

“Yes. Only for just as long as Nesta is recovering within your walls” Eris repeated. 

“I did not realize your friendship extended to that degree of intimacy.” Rhysand remarked coolly. 

“The details of my relationship to Nesta is not up for discussion. If you have any questions, feel free to take them up with Nesta directly.” Eris replied tartly “I _can_ confirm that she willingly sought me out multiple times over the past few years. Can you say the same?”

Rhysand frowned as he ran a deciding eye over Eris, and the Autumn Lord was fully prepared for his request to be denied. After all, it was widely known that Velaris was the prized jewel of the Night Court, the city esteemed above all others. Why would Rhysand give his long-term nemesis freedom of movement in his cherished sanctuary? Eris certainly wouldn’t, if placed in the same situation. 

So the question remained: just how far was Eris willing to push? He had been gone from Autumn too long now, every moment wasted in the Night Court was time where his territory sat vulnerable to Helion’s machinations. He also couldn't, in good conscience, allow Nesta to remain in Velaris, alone and friendless. 

Fortunately for Eris, the situation resolved itself when Rhysand unexpectedly gave into his demands. 

“I’ll agree to your terms with one condition; you’re not permitted to leave the grounds unattended, but in acknowledgement of your assistance, I will grant you permission to freely enter this estate for as long as Nesta is recuperating inside these walls.” Rhysand conceded.

Eris let out a breath of relief, glad that matter had been dealt with. He bid Rhysand farewell and quickly winnowed back to the Autumn Court. 

~

Eris handled security matters as quickly and discreetly as possible. Helion’s connection to Autumn was a highly guarded secret, known to only select a few members of court. Eris' task was made all the more easier, since most weren’t aware how deeply Helion’s betrayal cut. His Royal Guards need only know that the High Lord of Day was considered a potential security threat, they were prepared to handle things from there. 

The next step was to winnow directly to each of his brother’s principalities to confer with his siblings, ensuring they had the proper resources to defend their respective cities. His brothers were not privy to Helion’s personal connection to the Autumn Court. They did, however, accept the warning with little question, and jumped immediately to secure their cities defence. 

Berons would roll over in his grave if he witnessed their cooperation, considering that he did not aspire to raise compassionate sons. 

The late High Lord had done his best to mould his children into his own image, doing his best to carve out every last shred of his son’s humanity. The lessons of their childhood were brutal and never ending. The overriding message being this: If you wanted power you must simply take it, regardless of blood ties. The only way to improve one’s station was by the debasement of their brother. When everything was a competition, benevolence was a liability. 

The results of Beron’s teachings were cruelly effective. While Beron may have been blessed by seven legitimate sons, only five still walked this earth. Two younger brothers had tried to kill Lucian, only to lose their lives for the effort and cause Lucian to abandon Autumn completely. Only Four sons remained - almost half the original count - when Eris ascended to power. 

In order to change the dog-eats-dog culture that long plagued the Autumn Court, Eris granted each sibling a Princedom over a major city, commanding that they rule with compassion, and for the benefit of their people. It was a risky move to entrust each brother with such previously unseen power - they could easily put their newfound resources towards mutanity - but the arrangement was paying off in spades. Each city was prospering like never before, elevating both his siblings and their citizens. 

Eris had also sent several missives to Lucian, currently residing in the mortal lands, with the same offer of Princehood. His letters were sent back unread, the royal seal unbroken, with several creative suggestions on just what Eris could do with the letters. 

The lessons of their shared childhood were merciless, and Lucian had taken them to heart. 

But three brothers remained, and while they would never trust each other implicitly, they each dedicated themselves to the service of their court. When Eris was satisfied that his brother’s had the situation at hand, he returned home to Forest Hill

  
  


~

His mother, Lady Nayirah Vanserra, had been greatly distressed to learn of Nesta’s suffering. She declared her intention to travel to Velairs, determined to see to Nesta’s care herself. Although he cherished his Lady Mother above all others, Eris refused to grant her request. He would not allow his mother to walk directly into that viper’s den. Lady Nayirah would remain back in Forest Hill, safely away from the duplicitous Inner Circle. 

Eris couldn’t help but note that his mother did not react when she learned of Helion’s betrayal, just as she seldom reacted when it came to news about that male. She merely turned her face away and announced her intention to pack a care package for Nesta, and Eris wordlessly watched her go. 

He long since speculated on the exact nature of his mother’s and Helion’s relationship, but never pried. Whatever their truth may be, it was clear that Helion’s actions had once again hurt Nayirah, and Eris cursed the male twice over. 

But with his mother informed of the recent turn of events, and with comforting knowledge that his lands would be well protected in his absence, Eris departed for Velaris. 

~

He winnowed directly into the gardens, to the exact spot where the bastard had landed all those many hours ago. Eris was mildly surprised to discover that the sun had just began its daily climb over the horizon. Had only one night passed by since Nesta was gravely injured? It felt like so much longer. It felt like a lifetime. 

No butler was present to welcome Eris into the manor, just a solitary guard who paid him no heed, so the High Lord of Autumn let himself in. With a weary sigh, Eris retraced his route through the cold, empty corridors of Rhysand’s lofty estate. If the High Lord or Lady was aware of Eris' return, they’d done nothing to acknowledge it. Slightly annoyed, he stopped the next servant he found, which happened to be a maid carrying a basket of freshly washed linens. 

“Would you be kind enough to let your High Lord know that Eris Vanserra has returned?” He politely requested. 

The maid had merely blinked up at him before nervously nodding her head and dashing away. Eris couldn’t help but grimace at her reaction. His reputation had apparently preceded him. 

Eris had quickly made his way back to Nesta’s convalescing room. The sitting room now sat empty, abandoned by the bickering members of the Inner Circle. He paused in the doorway, unsure of his next steps. The door to Nesta’s recovery room remained closed. He pressed his ear against it, making out faint murmurs of hushed conversation. Nesta was not currently alone. 

Eris gently rapped the door before taking a respectful step back. The entryway swung open, revealing an unfamiliar lesser fae dressed in healer's livery. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Eris, and the Autumn High Lord bit back a sigh. The reaction to his presence was beginning to get old.

“Can I help you?” The male asked in a tone that suggested he wished to do anything _but._

“I’ve come to see Nesta. May I enter?” Eris asked cordially as he attempted to peer around the healer.

The male shifted to the right, blocking Eris’ view. 

“Now is a bad time. The patient is resting.” Said the disobliging little male as he attempted to shut the door in Eris’ face. 

Eris frowned, annoyance creeping in and taking up residence at the forefront of his emotions. It had been a long, extremely shitty night. His tolerance for bullshit was rapidly hitting an all time low. He slipped his foot into the doorway, blocking the healer from closing the door.

“Just when will the patient be ready for visitors?” Eris tried again, his voice several degrees colder as the last of his patience fled him. 

The disagreeable little man took a half step back, hopefully reassessing his decision to get into a pissing match with a High Lord.

“Madja is cleaning the patient. We’ll need to redress the wounds before letting visitors back in. It will be ten, fifteen minutes tops.” 

The nameless healer paused for a moment, to allow for further inquiries. The High Lord simply nodded in gratitude and took a step back, removing his foot from the entryway. The healer immediately closed the door

And this was where he remained, lost in memories, until a clumsy servant dropped a carafe and pulled him out from his thoughts and into the present. The servant finished picking up the broken shards of glass and Eris was slightly relieved to note that she completed the task without injuring herself. She then, for some unknown reason, _curtseyed_ in farewell, before scattering from the room. Eris blinked in bewilderment as he watched her go. 

He truly had an effect on the staff of the Night Court. 

Eris sighed as he ran a tired hand over his face, suddenly feeling about a thousand years older. Now that he was back in the Night Court and no longer distracted by courtly duties, all the fears and misgivings came rushing back. 

Mother above, Nesta had almost _died_ . It had been much too close; any further delay and Eris would have been tasked with returning Nesta's remains back home to her sisters. It had been too close. Too many things could have gone wrong. If the Gods had seen fit to throw just _one_ more setback their way, Helion would have succeeded in his inn-advised mission.

Eris’ vision blurred as tratious tears filled his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away. This was neither the time nor place to show a hint of weakness, not when the snakes of the Night Court could slither in at any given moment. The entire lot of them were untrustworthy. Eris had no doubt that the famed Inner Circle would find a way to twist his vulnerability to their advantage. No, he needed to push down his grief. There would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to keep it together. He would wait for Nesta to wake up, and then get her the hell away from Velaris. 

If he owed her anything, he owed her that. 

So Eris approached the window to watch the sunrise, and continued to wait for Nesta.

  
  


~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

  
  
  


The voices came from far away, teetering at the edge of consciousness. 

The sounds prodded at her, with just enough provocation to lure Nesta away from the beckoning darkness. She couldn’t quite understand the words; their meanings too jumbled for her dazed and sleepy mind, so her attention drifted inwards.

Awareness came slipping in. Nausea. Pain. A burning in her side.

She became aware of hands on her; prodding, pressing.

She tried to protest the rough treatment but her mouth was dry, as if filled with cotton. Her throat hurt. 

She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy. 

Her cumbersome limbs would not obey her commands. Nesta didn’t have the strength to fight. 

A cool hand gently pressed against her forehand, and Nesta slipped back into the waiting darkness. 

  
  
  
  


~~~~~~

**Cassian**

_Velaris_

_The Night Court_

Cassian was out among the gardens when the rising sun heralded the arrival of a new day, bringing a close to the longest night of his life. He lifted his face to bask in the warm morning light, relishing the knowledge that his mate's overall odds of survival had improved with the newly arrived dawn. 

Nesta had made it through the night. 

She survived those first few critical hours, and, while she wasn’t fully in the clear, Cassian could privately celebrate that momentous occasion. Nesta lived. She _lived_. And her chances for survival increased with every passing hour. 

Waiting was pure misery. Cassian was a male of action. He was never content to sit back and wait, and it had been torturous to sit idly by while his mate battled for her life. He’d been at loose ends, hating the feeling of helplessness that consumed him. It took every single shred of his extraordinary self control to remain in the waiting area. Cassian’s instincts screamed for him to rush to her side. The only thing which kept his ass in his seat was the knowledge that forcing the issue could put Nesta at risk, something he would never willingly do. 

Vanserra left after Madja gave her initial update, so Cassian’s fixated on the time, watching the hours ticked by and impatiently counting down the minutes until he could lay his eyes on Nesta once again. 

He remained quiet, ignoring his friend’s initial attempts at conversation. The Inner Circle, for the most part, were content to leave Cassian alone with his musing. 

At one point Rhysand briefly took him aside, telling Cassian of his plans to leave and track down Mor and Amren and bring them up to date on the whole situation. Unfortunately, they weren’t quite rid of Vanserra, and Rhysand needed to warn Mor of Eris’ eventual return. While he wasn’t overy happy to learn of Vanserra’s ongoing attendance, Cassian did breathe a sigh of relief at the knowledge that Mor wouldn't be rushing back home. Morrigan was one of his oldest friends, but she never got along with Nesta. Cassian was glad that he wouldn't need to manage Mor’s emotions when Nesta lay unconscious in the next room. 

Cassian was first in line when Madja announced that they were ready to accept visitors. Perhaps the gentlemanly thing to do was allow Nesta’s sisters a private visit, but patience had abandoned him and Cassian _needed_ to set eyes upon his mate. His friends must have sensed his resolve, not a single complaint was voiced as Cassian pushed his way to Nesta’s sickbed.

Nesta remained unconscious, just as Madja had warned. She was too small, too pale, with an unnatural stillness that could only be the result of magic. Madja had placed Nesta into a healing trance to help speed along her recovery. The abdominal injury could be easily agitated, so a few days in statis would be beneficial in the long run. Still, Cassian would have given anything to peer into those blue-grey eyes again. He lowered himself into the bedside chair, and gently clasped her hand within his own. 

“Hello, Sweetheart.” He said, watery voice no louder than a whisper. “I’m here, now. I came back for you, just like I promised. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need me. But you need to fight now, Nesta. You need to fight your way back to me.”

He broke off then, vision blurred by tears, and rested his head on her pillow, careful not to jostle his sleeping mate. The last thing he’d ever want to do was reopen her wound. _Cauldron boil him_ , he just wanted her back in his arms. She was everything he ever wanted, but things were fucked beyond belief. 

He stayed there for quite some time, ignoring the healers who milled about in the background. Cassian took a step back when the sisters came in to visit but hovered nearby, unwilling to let her completely out of her sight. The sisters came and went, and Cassian resumed his watch at her side. 

Azriel appeared at his shoulder some indeterminate amount of time later.

“Nesta appears to be doing well, brother.” The Shawdowsinger commented.

Cassian merely shrugged in response. Nesta didn’t look well, at least not to him. He wouldn’t be satisfied until she was awake and alert. 

“Rhysand returned at the top of the hour.” His brother soldiered on, ignoring Cassian’s lukewarm response. “He’s ushered Feyre to bed, though I doubt she’ll find any rest tonight. Elain has given up on sleep completely. She’s down in the kitchen preparing breakfast. I don’t know the last time you ate, so she is making you a plate.” 

Cassian closed his eyes, scrubbing a tired hand down his face. He wanted to appreciate the foresight, but he didn’t have the patience for hen pecking. 

“I’m good, Az.” He replied curtly as he brushed a strand of hair off of Nesta’s forehead. 

Cassian heard the soft shuffling of feet as the Shawdowsinger approached the bed. Azriel usually moved silently, so the footsteps were intentional. The Spymaster knew better than to surprise an uneasy male keeping vigil at their mate’s bedside. 

“You need to step away, brother.” Az said, softly but firmly. “The healers need to change her bandages and you’re intimidating them. Come and join us for breakfast. Nesta is in good hands.” 

He shifted in his seat, frowning, and glanced towards one of the assistants who lingered in the corner. The male froze when Cassian made eye contact, paling in what would have been a comical manner in any other circumstance. 

“You there.” He addressed the cowering male. “How much time do you need with the patient?”

“We… we need at least an hour, General. Perhaps a little longer to be on the safe side” The healer stammered. 

Cassian no longer went by that title but didn’t nother correct the healer. He gave his mate one last lingering look before standing up to leave.

“This female is important to me, and well being in your hands. See that she remains well guarded until I return.”

The healer paled even further, but Cassian paid him no further heed as he exited the room. Members of Rhys' personal guards flanked either side of the entryway, alleviating some of Cassian’s fears regarding Nesta’s safety. They slipped down towards a servants staircase, preferring efficiency over etiquette, as they made their way towards the lower level. Elain had unofficially claimed one of the smaller kitchens as her own, and could often be found there when not occupying herself in the garden. 

“Nesta is in good hands.” Azriel commented patiently. “Rhys increased patrols around the estate. She’ll be safe until you return.”

Cassian nodded distractedly. He would lay money that Rhysand’s first act was to tighten security. After all, Nesta was Feyre’s sister; Rhysand wouldn’t risk her safety, especially during Feyre’s pregnancy. Hell, he’d almost pity Helion for the hell that Rhys would certainly rain down when next they met. 

Instead, Cassian was reflecting on his luck, and how it always seemed to be fleeting when it came to Nesta.

“I was going to tell her about the mating bond, Az.” He admitted. “I had it all planned out. We were going to talk as soon as I returned from Adriata.” 

“You think she doesn’t already know?” 

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.” Cassian responded with a mirthless laugh. “It’s like we’re cursed. Everything I think I have a firm grip on our future, something comes and snatches the rug out from under me. First Hybern. _Then_ when she ran. And _then_ , when I finally found her, Helion came along and tried to hurt her.” 

He stopped then, fists clenched so tightly that the nails drew blood, as he rage came flooding back to him. His stomach tightened as the image of a blood soaked Nesta inhibited his mind. Someone hurt Nesta. Someone _dared_ to hurt his mate.. Fury was corrupting him, controlling him. He wanted to hit something. _Needed_ to hit something. Needed to unleash his pent up rage. 

“Cassian.” Snapped Azriel, a scarred hand on his shoulder bringing Cassian back to the present. “Dining room or training grounds?”

Cassian blinked once, meeting his brother’s even gaze, before attempting to push his anger back down. He could always count on the Shadowsinger. Az knew how deeply Cassian was torn by Nesta’s injury, would forfeit sleep or food if that meant distracting his brother. He would also face Cassian in the boxing ring, if it helped take the edge off. 

“Dining room.” Cassian answered. “I would hate for Elain to go to all that trouble for nothing.”

Azriel nodded, relief easing his features, and the two headed off to break their fast. 

  
  


~

  
  
Az mentioned that breakfast was to be a casual affair between the three of them, but Elain had gone above and beyond while procuring their morning meal. The table was filled with piping hot dishes. Platters were laden with different types of hams and sausages, steaming fresh from the ovens. Elain even made one of Cassian’s favouite dishes; sliced bread dipped in eggs and fried in butter, served with a variety of jams and syrups. Cassian brushed a grateful kiss on Elain’s brown, before pouring himself a cup of coffee and digging into his heaping plate. 

Elain sat back with a pleased expression as she watched the Illyrians tuck into their meals. 

“Delicious as always, El.” Cassian praised after swallowing a large bite of sausage.

The female he’d come to consider a sister gave him a distracted smile. She poured herself a fresh cup of tea before adding a lump of sugar and a splash of milk. Her furrowed brow gave away her preoccupation. Something was on her mind. He cast a quick glance at Az, who was also focused on his wife’s demeanour. 

“Is something troubling you, my love?” asked Azriel. 

Elain glanced up, her features softening as she gazed into her husband’s eyes. 

“Just pondering the events of the day.” She hesitated a moment, before adding. “I know neither of you are fond of Eris, that your history is… complicated, but I fear to think of today’s outcome if he wasn’t here.”

Cassian sat up a little straighter at Elain’s words. He had so many questions about Vanserra. He wanted to know how the High Lord became entangled in all of this, but also knew the geas bound Elain to silence. While he would never call Eris a friend - their history was too convoluted to ever be forgotten - he was indebted to the male for saving Nesta. However, Cassian hadn’t been pleased to learn that Vanserra planned on returning. He wanted to get to the bottom of things, but it was impossible to do so for as long as the geas remained in effect. They needed to break the spell. 

Azriel, meanwhile, only had eyes for his wife. 

“I had always wondered why you stayed silent when pressed about your sister. I knew I had your love, but I worried that I didn’t have your trust.”

“Oh, my love. Never doubt that again. You are _everything_ to me.” Elain vowed, her eyes glistening with tears. 

Cassian shifted in his seat, considering excusing himself to give the couple some space. He was all too aware of their history, knew that Elain’s silence had weighed heavily on the Shadowsinger’s heart. Elain was dedicated to Azirel, any blind male could see that, but Elain’s silence had always troubled Azriel. Why had they never considered a geas? Like most things examined in retrospect, the explanation was all too obvious. 

Cass hoped it afforded his brother a piece of mind. 

“I think I’ll grab some fresh air.” He announced, affectionately ruffling Elain’s hair on his way out. 

Elain barely acknowledged Cassian, her adoring attention locked on her husband. Azriel managed to catch his eye, obviously torn between duty to his brother and devotion to his wife. Cassian made a subtle gesture, motioning Azriel to stay back with Elain. His place was by his wife’s side. 

Cassian roamed the lower floors for a while, eventually making his way out into the courtyard. The gardens were essentially deserted this time of day, with only the occasional patrolling guard keeping him company. He found a garden bench hidden among the early morning shadows, and made himself comfortable. 

He vowed to remain there until daybreak, ensuring the healers had their promised time with Nesta. He sat there, alone with his thoughts and fears, until the sun began to rise over the horizon. His imposed waiting period was almost over when he sensed an approaching presence.

“It’s just me.” Rhys called softy.

Cassian forced his muscles to relax as he turned to face his High Lord. Rhysand looked almost as tired as Cass felt, which was really saying something. He’d been running full tilt for almost three straight days with very little downtime and exhaustion was starting to set in. Cassian was hoping to catch a few hours of sleep when allowed back into Nesta’s room. The chair wasn’t wholly comfortable but he’d slept in far less cozy surroundings.

“I was just about to head back. Walk with me?” The Illyrain asked, rising to full height. 

Rhys gave Cassian a distracted nod as he waited for Cassian to join him. The males began their short walk back towards the estate.

“Eris is back already” Rhys warned without prelude. “I still don’t know how he became embroiled in this whole fucking mess, but I don’t like it.” 

Cassian couldn’t disagree with that particular sentiment. He was filled with unease by Vanserra’s swift reappearance, exhaustion quickly forgotten as he hurried back to Nesta’s convalescence room. 

“Elain knows about his involvement, but she won’t be telling us much until we find a way to break the geas.” Cassian called over his shoulder. 

“We’ll have to take it up with Eris directly then. I don’t trust him, but I don’t see any other recourse.” Rhys admitted with a sigh, raking his hands through his disheveled hair. 

“Where is he now?” Cassian asked as he opened the side door and slipped into the manor. 

“He’s upstairs, waiting to see Nesta. He hasn’t been allowed in. Feyre is already there, and Azriel should have joined her by now. They’ll hold him off.” Rhysand allayed 

Cassian redoubled his pace with newfound urgency. He was half tempted to have Rhys winnow them into the sitting room but pride pushed him forward. He didn’t want to rely on another male to bring him to his mate, and besides, he trusted Azriel to watch over Nesta’s safety in his absence. 

He skidded to a halt in front of the sitting room. Sure enough, the faint scent of Eris Vanserra assaulted his senses before laying eyes upon the male. He strutted into the room while fixing a glare on the High Lord of Autumn. He may have been grateful for Vanserra’s earlier assistance, but the male didn’t belong here in Velaris. He was sitting in one of the room’s few wingback chairs, directly across from Feyre. Elain was perched on a small sofa between the two, with Azriel keeping close watch from behind. 

Vanserra’s head jerked towards the door at the newcomer’s arrival, his cold amber eyes running an assessing gaze over Cassin rumpled clothing. Unlike the Autumn High Lord, Cassian hasn’t taken the time to bathe and change his bloodstained attire. 

“Finished your business so soon?” Asked Rhysand as he sat on the armrest of Feyre’s chair, no hint of warmth in his modulated voice. 

Eris slightly tilted his head in affirmation, exuding an air of imperious disdain that easily matched Rhysand’s demeanour. The visiting High Lord leaned back in the chair as his fingers tapped out a staccato rhythm on his thigh, his fidgeting hinting at the male’s underlying turmoil. Vanserra’s face revealed nothing, but he was smart enough to remain vigilant among the Inner Circle.

“Your lovely wife has been keeping me company while I wait to see Nesta. The healers insisted that I remain out here.” His eyes narrowed as he cast a suspicious glare at Cassian. “I can only guess at their reasoning for the delay.”

Cassian didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Clearly the healer heeded Cassin’s warning, and it was apparent from Vanserra’s tone that the High Lord knew who was ultimately responsible for the delay. 

“I’m sure we can see her shortly.” Elain piped up in an obvious attempt to pacify Vanserra. 

“I’m surprised you’re even here.” Cassian snapped without thinking, and five heads swirled in his direction. 

“I am here by permission of your High Lord.” Vanserra responded icily, enouncing each syllable with a deliberate slowness. “And I am here because I am her friend.”

“Helion was her friend, too.” Cassian pointed out churlishly and then, because he never really learned to keep his mouth shut when it was good for him, he added. “The last time I found you near Nesta, you were prepared to attack her. So forgive me if I find your whole _friendship_ questionable.”

Eric leaned further back in his chair as he steepled his fingers under his chin, a king atop his throne, and a sly smile spread across his face. 

“Once again you’re jumping to the wrong conclusion. You always expect the worst from me, couldn’t possibly assume there was any other explanation.”

He could see Feyre and Rhysand glance at each other from his peripheral vision. They knew what Vanserra referred to. They’d been informed of the incident on Autumn Court borders, all those years ago. 

He’d come across intel that placed Nesta in the Autumn Court, and performed several convert aerial patrols. That was how he found her; physically running away as Vanserra stalked her through the rolling hillsides, preparing to strike her down with his magic. Cassian had landed immediately, and the males had come to blows. It was foolish to challenge a newly minted High Lord in own lands, but he unquestionably did so in order to defend Nesta. 

_Except_ _Nesta had_ run _from me then,_ Cassian belatedly realized. If Nesta was afraid for her safety - _truly afraid_ \- wouldn’t she have escaped _with_ Cassian? And why hadn’t Vanserra issued a grievance through political channels? After all; Cassian had attacked a High Lord in his own territory, despite having zero lawful justification for doing so. There had been very little blowback. Eris Vanserra has despised Cassian since childhood, by all logic he should have jumped at the chance for persecution. Except he hadn't. 

Vanserra let the issue go without complaint. 

It didn’t make sense, and Cassian had been too focused on finding Nesta to even question it. 

An uneasy suspicion began to creep in. Things were beginning to click into place, but Cassian didn’t like where they were headed. He glanced at Elain for confirmation. Or for denial. Anything. But Elain kept her gaze downcast, her fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of her skirts. She couldn’t - or wouldn’t - meet his eyes.

“You’ve been in league with Nesta for years.” Cassian finally acknowledged. 

It wasn’t a question, and Vanserra’s oily smile spread even further. 

“You’ve always been a little slow, but I knew you’d get there eventually.” Taunted the High Lord of Autumn.

His brothers instantly reacted to the insult. Azriel’s Siphons flared to life as his wings snapped shut in anger. Rhysand stood up threateningly, a murderous expression darkening his face. Even Feyre’s lips curled up in outrange. 

“Careful, Eris.” Rhys wanted, voice low and deadly. “You may have permission to enter my home, but it does not give you the right to disrespect my people.”

“No offence intended,” remarked Vanserra, but his gaze remained locked on Cassian, his expression unchanged, “I was merely complimenting your male on his strategic thinking.”

Cassian paid no heed to the insult. His thoughts had drawn inward. _Why_ ? _Why did she choose to go to you? The one male whose presence I cannot stand._

Their longtime rivalry was no secret. Nesta knew of the Inner Circle’s deep and abiding hatred for Eris Vanserra. She knew what he put Mor through. So out of all of Prythian, why would Nesta run to _him_? 

_How could she_? 

“I thought you were hunting her.” Cassian said instead.

“No, I wasn’t hunting her.” Eris answered with a slight shrug. “You had stumbled upon a training session. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“A training session?” Echoed Feyre in clear disbelief. 

Cold amber eyes snapped to Feyre, and Cassian could hear the underlying tinge of anger in Vanserra’s acerbic response. 

“Yes, I was _overseeing_ her training. Surely you were aware how far her condition had deteriorated before arriving at my door? She is _your_ sister _,_ after all. The Night Court has developed a nasty custom of sending us their castaways in piss-poor condition. I wanted to ensure that _this one_ was nursed back to health, since no one else seemed to care about her well being.” Scoffed Vanserra.

Feyre let out a cry of outrage, rising to her feet in anger. One hand was placed protectively on her swollen belly, the other clenched into a fist at her side. Feyre was _enraged._

“Get out.” She snarled. “Get out of my home. Get out of my _court._ ”

Eris remained in his seat, knuckles white as they gripped the armrest. He must have realized how well and truly fucked he was about to become, because he finally dropped that fucking smirk off his face. Elain made a sound of distress but made no move to leave. Azriel watched the ordeal with a predatory interest, preparing to strike at the slightest provocation. 

“If you wish me to leave,” Vanserra began carefully, “then I will be taking Nesta with me.”

“No, _never._ ” Hissed his High Lady. “You have _no claim_ to her. You have _no right_ to take her. Nesta Archeron is my _sister_. She will be staying in Velaris!”

“Oh, no.” Elain whispered softly. “Oh Feyre, _no._ _No. No. No_.”

Something about Elain’s soft admonition set Cassian’s teeth on edge, and a tendril of trepidation began curling through his body. 

Feyre had apparently played her hand and, judging by Elain’s reaction, she’d played the wrong one. Cassian considered himself an intelligent male, but he was baffled by the unfolding scene. He could sense a trap, but he couldn’t see it. 

“If this is how you wish to play it, so be it. If we are to stake claim to Nesta based solely on familiar relationships, then she will be coming home with _me._ ” Snapped Vanserra with an air of finality.

“But she is my sister.” Feyre argued, but the conviction was gone from her voice. She glanced at Elain in confusion, but her sister refused to meet her gaze. Elain had dropped her head into her hands. Fear was taking root in Cassian, the sour taste of uncertainty turning to lead in his stomach. 

“She may be your sister,” taunted Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, “but she is _my wife_. And I am bringing her home with me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this beast of a chapter helps to make up for the long wait. In order to make my deadline, I've posted without editing so please pardon any mistakes. 
> 
> An extended lock-down means it's likely going to be another two week delay until chapter 9. :(
> 
> Any thoughts or comments about this chapter? Please drop me a comment! 
> 
> The next chapter is titled: _The Autumn Bride_


	9. The Autumn Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mind the tags

~~~~~~~

**Eris**

  
  


_Three years prior_

  
  


_The patrol rode long into the night, only stopping when the canopy of the forest became thick enough to drown out the moonlight. Tree roots twisted and crawled their way along the forest floor, and the low light created near-invisible tripping hazards, making it too dangerous to push the horses forward. So the patrol made camp in the forest, well after midnight and less than five miles to their destination. The uneven ground made for uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, but there was naught to be done about it, so the males set to work._

_After giving his mount a quick brush down, Eris offered assistance to the sentry tasked with pitching his father’s tent. The High Lord stood idly by and offered little more than criticism while they secured the tent in low light and sandy soil. Beron crawled in the moment it was erect, with nary a thanks for their trouble. Eris didn’t mind; they were temporarily free of the old fucker, and all the better for it._

_The rest of the group eschewed their tents, preferring a bedroll under the open sky. It didn’t seem worth the effort to do otherwise as the morning was a few short hours away and there was no concern for rain. Eris himself slept fitfully, dozing in short increments the few times he managed to sleep at all. He was ill at ease, unable to rest his troubled mind, and gave up all attempts to sleep shortly before dawn._

_He packed up his bedroll and carefully picked his way over the sleeping males, grabbing a portion of dried meat from his saddle as he searched for the sentries who’d pulled guard duty. Eris spotted one, a newly minted guard by the name of Bayly, a little over fifty feet off in the distance. A fine morning mist was beginning to roll in, not quite reaching the ankles of the patrolling guard._

_“Was it an eventful night, then?” Ask Eris with forced cheerfulness before taking a bite of breakfast._

_Bayly was wet behind the ears, having only joined the guards that previous winter, but Eris had already come to admire the male. Bayly was affable, whip-smart, and possessed a boyish enthusiasm that made him quite popular amongst the ranks, but as of that moment all traces of his easy-going essence had disappeared. Bayly barely acknowledged Eris’ approach, was scrutinizing the surrounding forest with a feverish intensity, and Eris immediately shifted focus, all humour fleeting like last night’s dream._

_“What is it?” He asked quietly while he scanned the area._

_“I thought I heard something.” Bayly paused for a moment, his brows furrowed in concentration. “It was a horse, I’m almost sure of it.”_

_“A horse?” He muttered, surprised. Whatever Eris had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. “You think there are riders nearby?”_

_“I don’t know,” Bayly admitted, but the tension hadn’t left his voice._

_Eris frowned as he stretched out with his senses. The rolling fog started to thicken, blanketing the forest floor in a cover of mist which began obscuring the sleeping guards. He closed his eyes, straining to catch even a trace of sound. It was unnervingly silent, and even the birds had refrained from song. It was if the creatures of the forest were waiting, watching._

_He couldn’t hear a thing until…._ there _! Off in the distance: a whinny of a horse. He glanced at Bayly and the young guard had heard it as well, judging by the stiffening of his posture._

 _They were most definitely_ not _alone._

_Eris had a quick decision to make; the situation needed investigating, but his mount wasn’t saddled. It wasn’t ideal to go traipsing off on foot but, then again, he could always winnow back if he found himself in unfavourable circumstances._

_“I’m going to scout ahead.” He informed Bayly as he unsheathed his dagger. “Wake the others and ready the horses. I need everyone ready to depart at a moment's notice.”_

_Bayly hesitated for a moment. “Is it safe for you to go alone, my Lord?”_

_“I’ll be safe enough. Worry about security for the High Lord. I’ll be back shortly.” Eris ordered as he stalked into the surrounding forest._

_He was careful as he crept along the forest floor, mindful of the tree roots hidden in the now knee-high mist. Visibility was poor. The canopy was too thick for the morning sun to breach the trees in order to burn away the fog. So Eris relied on his other senses while he searched for the source of the disturbance. The forest remained unnaturally quiet. Eris heard neither fae nor beast as he headed south, seeking out the mysterious horse and rider._

_Unfortunately, he became disoriented after five minutes. The increasing fog was playing games with his senses, and he was starting to see faces and figures within the swirling mist._

It is only my imagination, _Eris thought to himself,_ those faces in the mist aren’t real. It’s just my imagination. 

_He clenched his dagger tighter, eyes searching the blinding fog in a vain attempt to decipher reality from illusion. And then, while peering into churning mist, his foot snagged on a looping tree root and Eris went down hard, losing his weapon to the impenetrable mist. He was blindly searching for the missing blade when he heard it; the snorting of a horse, much closer than he thought possible. Eris froze, caught off guard and vulnerable. He abandoned the dagger completely as he regained his feet and lifted his arm, wreathing his hand in living flame._

_“Hello?” Eris called out as he peered into the endless fog. The fire did little to help his vision - the firelight reflected off of the mist instead of cutting through it - and Eris mentally cursed himself as he lowered his hand. “Who goes there?”_

_There was no answer, just the soft crush of foliage as something made its way towards him. Eris widened his stance, poised and ready for attack. A shadow began to take form, and from the mist emerged a horse, nearly twenty hands in height and quite riderless. Eris immediately extinguished his flames as he warily approached the solitary animal._

_“Whoa, boy! Easy, easy there.” Eris soothed as he grabbed the reins, running an inspecting hand down the creature’s neck. “What are you doing out here all alone?”_

_It was a well-schooled mount with a seemingly good disposition, standing at attention once Eris took the reins. He doubted it was a beast of burden. So what was it doing out here, saddled up and alone? Did its owner fall off in this blasted fog?_

_Eris stepped to the creature’s side and flinched; the horse belonged to the Royal Sentries, he would recognize the Autumn Court tack anywhere. The low morning light could not dim the vibrant red, orange and yellow hues of the regulation saddle blanket, nor could it hide the Guard’s insignia, proudly engraved on the saddle’s skirt._

_“Where did you come from? Did you wander away from our pack last night?” Eris murmured as ran his hand along the horse’s flank._

_If that was the case, then there would be hell to pay. That was an unacceptable blunder, especially when their High Lord travelled amongst them. Eris grimaced as he pictured his father’s reaction. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. He couldn’t very well hide the creature upon his return and, besides, it wasn’t his place to chastise the guards. Eris wasn’t officially heading up the patrol - that honour fell to the Senior Guardsman - and with that leadership came the responsibility of meriting out discipline for carelessness. To become involved was to undermine the Senior Guardsman’s authority, something Eris wasn’t willing to do._

_So there was little else to do but return to camp._

_Eris grabbed the horn as he prepared to mount the horse, but paused halfway, withdrawing his hand in surprise. The horn was coated in a wet, viscous substance. The fluid’s colouring was such a near match to the crimson saddle that it nearly blended in seamlessly, which was how he initially missed it on first inspection. But Eris was looking closer now, and uneasiness rolled through his stomach as he inspected his hand._

_It was blood. The saddle was covered in blood_

  
  
  


_~_

_Eris made quick work returning to the waiting group of guards, choosing to lead the horse back rather than ride on its blood-slicked saddle. The thick fog hadn't dispersed, and it was difficult to see more than thirty feet in front of him. Fortunately, he wasn’t too far from camp and could follow the sound of Bayly’s rejoining call any time he began to lose his way._

_A small reception was standing by, waiting to receive him. Bayly remained on lookout, with his father and Emmet, the Senior Guardsman, at his side. Eris could see the faint outlines of the remaining sentries, shadowy ghosts moving through the fog as they worked to break down the camp._

_“You found a horse,” Bayly announced helpfully._

_“One of ours, judging by the tack,” Eris informed the group, catching his father’s gaze. “The rider is missing and I found blood on the saddle.”_

_Emmet’s brows lifted in surprise, the seasoned veteran only reaction, before he stepped forward to gather the reins._

_“That’s Kalan’s horse,” Emmet announced after studying the creature, and Eris felt his stomach turn to lead._

_“Who’s Kalan?” Beron asked._

_“The scout who journeyed ahead,” Eris responded, unable to suppress a shiver._

_“Maybe it was an accident,” Bayly suggested, though his voice remained unconvinced. “Perhaps Kalan fell off his mount and became lost in the fog?”_

_“That wouldn’t explain the blood.” Disagreed Emmet as he examined the saddle. “There’s too much of it to have been caused by a superficial wound.”_

_Eris had already come to the same conclusion, but his misgivings increased hearing it voiced out loud. The missing the rider, the blood, and this gods-damned unnatural fog did not bode well for this mission. No matter how much he tried to deny it, this was becoming so much more than the simple retrieval exercise that Beron made it out to be._

_“We can’t ride out in these conditions. I lost my bearings several times, and I was no further than a quarter-mile away.”_

_“We should stand down.” Emmet agreed. “I can’t make out shit in this fog. It’s unnatural. Something is creating it, and I’d bet a month’s wages that it's meant to hold us in place.”_

_Eris mulled over Emmet’s words. The Senior Guardsman had been a sentry for all of Eris’ living memory and he’d never known the male to give into fits of cravenness. He was a seasoned leader. They would be fools to ignore the comments._

_But Beron, the old fucker, scoffed._

_“What do you suggest we do, Guardsman? Should I, High Lord of Autumn, stay content to sit back and let others dictate the terms of my movement in my own territory?”_

_“We cannot ride out, father. The horses cannot travel sight unseen.” Eris objected._

_“And then we shall winnow. A delay will only give our prize an opportunity to escape.” Beron snapped, angry that his son dared to protest. “Did your Lady Mother whelp me sons or snivelling daughters? To be so close to our prey, and you wish to beg off due to a little vapour? Find your balls, boy. Use them for something other than fucking pliant barmaids for a change.”_

_Eris stiffened at his father’s barb, anger heating his cheeks. Emmet and Bayly were pointedly ignoring Eris’ castigation, making a show of checking over the Kalan’s mount. So he ground his teeth and tried again._

_“The sentries cannot winnow, father, and I have never stepped foot into this inn. You are the only one capable of winnowing us. What if this is all part of a greater ploy to entrap you. Is this a risk you are willing to undertake, my Lord?” Eris asked with downcast eyes, playing the part of a dutiful son._

_It chafed him to grovel before the old prick, but Beron was a narcissistic fucker. Anything less than unquestioning obedience could spur the High Lord into recklessness. Beron wouldn’t hesitate to risk the guards on the odd chance it meant reaffirming his authority, and Eris wasn’t about to endanger the males over a matter of pride._

_Beron eyed his son as he considered the statement, and Eris held his breath. It was foolhardy to plough ahead with zero forethought. This whole scheme felt dubious from the minute he was made aware of the patrol’s true purpose. Things were not adding up, and they should do nothing less than examine all possible angles before charging forward._

_“Make haste.” Announced Beron, turning to address Emmet. “Round up three of your most trustworthy males. I wish to leave within ten minutes. The remainder of your guards will stay back to secure the camp.” Beron’s cold eyes slid back to Eris. “I am doing this to secure your future, boy. It is time to prove that you are male enough to deserve what I am offering.”_

_Eris clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beron stared him down, his imperious eyes searching out a whiff of disobedience. Eris had spent centuries living under Beron’s rule; he knew better than to argue, so he kept his tongue behind his teeth and simply nodded. Beron held his gaze for a moment and then, satisfied with Eris’ performance, walked off towards camp._

_He frowned as he watched his father disappear into the whirling mist. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like_ any _of it, but he’d learned years ago that it was better for everyone if he simply went along. Beron had issued a command. Eris had no choice but to follow it. They may be walking into a trap, but at least he would do so with eyes wide open._

_And that was that._

_~_

  
  


_“Something about this is very, very wrong.” Whispered Bayly, and Eris couldn’t help but agree._

_Beron had winnowed the small group in an hour earlier. Eris, Emmet and Bayly had forged on ahead to scope out the area, while the remaining sentries stayed back to guard their High Lord. The trio remained hidden inside the tree line as they surveyed the inn, which stood about two hundred feet away. The fog, still impenetrable in the forest, had substantially thinned out in the open field. Eris could make out the hazy shape of the three-story building, and some smaller details like the fluttering of laundry on a line._

_They had staked out the inn for almost an hour, and they hadn’t seen a soul._

_Normally a sleepy lodge wouldn’t be a great cause for concern, but Beron’s personal guards had ridden ahead half a day in advance, and standard practice called for round the clock patrols after securing their quarry. The lack of sentries, not to mention the missing scout, set Eris’ teeth on edge. Bayly was right: something was very,_ very _wrong._

_“I think it’s time for a closer look.” Murmured Eris._

_“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Bayly asked as he shifted the crossbow that rested on his shoulder._

_“It’s not your place to question things, kid.” Admonished Emmet, but without any real heat in his voice. The Senior Guardsman’s attention was focused on the inn. “Eris is right. We need to get closer for a better understanding of what we’re dealing with. There is no point to just sit here and twiddle our thumbs. Go back and inform the High Lord of the change in plans.”_

_Bayly frowned and for a brief moment it looked like he was about to argue, but he gave his superior a tight nod before turning on his heel and heading back into the murky forest. Eris watched Bayly go until he was nothing more than a shadow, swallowed up by the unending fog._

_“There’s no point in delaying any longer,” Emmet said quietly, half to himself, as he withdrew his broadsword and began to lead the way._

_The duo crept into the misty field, the Senior Guardsman out front and Eris taking the rear. Eris studied the inn’s numerous windows but detected no movement, not even the fluttering of a curtain. If the inn’s inhabitants were aware of their approach, they made no signs of it. The unnatural noiselessness of the forest persisted even here. No sound penetrated the stillness, not even the whinny of a horse from the nearby stable._

_And then Emmet sucked in a breath as he recoiled back in surprise, the sound near deafening in the surrounding silence. Caught off guard, Eris whipped his head around to see what drew Emmet’s attention and reeled back in horror._

_There, hanging from a large oak tree, hung the body of their missing scout. Large iron spikes had been driven into the dead male, pinning him in place. His hands had been nailed into outreaching branches, splaying his arms open in a sick parody of welcome. Eris had the sickening realization that he’d previously mistook Kalan’s riding cloak, twisted over a shoulder and fluttering on the gentle breeze, for laundry on a line._

_Kalan had been alive when they drove the spikes into his flesh if the copious amounts of blood were anything to go by. Bodies didn’t bleed. Not to that extent, not like that. Eris was familiar with horrors of war, had spent fifty godsforsaken years under Amarantha’s thumb, but he was still shocked to stumble across such unexpected brutality, especially within his own territory._

_Kalan suffered greatly in his final moments. It was a horrifying way to die._

_The scout’s vicious ending had lit a fire in his veins, and Eris unsheathed his longsword, ready for battle. He’d first approached the inn with only his wits and his magic, but Kalan’s suffering had cemented the perpetrator’s fate. Whoever committed this atrocity would find no quarter on this day._

_Carefully, ever so carefully, the pair climbed the stairs leading up to the inn’s entryway. The door stood ajar, and Emmet gently toed it open with the tip of his boot. The door opened easily, silently swinging out on its hinges. Eris tensed, but they were met with silence._

_Emmet entered first, sword at ready, and Eris slipped in behind. It was a small entryway with two distinct routes; a flight of stairs to the upper levels, and a long corridor leading to an unknown destination. Emmet gestured for Eris to take the main floor, leaving Emmet to secure the upper levels. Eris gave the Senior Guardsman a curt nod, and the older male disappeared upstairs, as silent as the grave._

_Eris focused his attention on the task at hand and began slowly making his way down the corridor. He passed a reception counter, likely where the proprietor worked to greet his guests, which stood it empty and abandoned. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was under surveillance, but no one moved to reveal themselves._

_The hallway emptied into a darkened room and Eris approached cautiously, searching for a sign of life. Heavy velvet curtains had been pulled closed, blocking out the morning light and shrouding the room in darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light, and then he could see multiple sets of breakfast tables scattered around the room, with coordinating chairs placed neatly underneath._

_And there, just behind the open entrance-way, an arm lay sprawled across the carpeted floor._

_Eris didn’t hesitate - indecision would only get himself killed - and quickly pressed himself against the wall, taking advantage of whatever meagre cover the space had to offer. His heart was in his throat as he fixated on the sight before him. He adjusted the grip on his sword, reading for an attack._

_Nevertheless, the hand remained static, unmoving. The owner of the arm hadn’t reacted to the sound of his approach, not even an involuntary twitch, so Eris held his breath as he gently peeked around the open doorway._

_The arm belonged to a very large, very dead male. He seemed to have been reaching out during his final moment as if attempting to crawl away. The body was face down in a puddle of blood, which had seeped into the carpeted floor. Eris didn’t recognize the male - could only see the bloodied back of his head - but the corpse's golden armor clearly denoted him as a member of the High Lord’s personal guards._

_This must have been one of the fae Beron sent forth to secure the area. The dead male used to be one of the High Lord’s most trusted guards, and now he was little more than carrion. A blowfly buzzed around the body, honing in on its morning meal._

Everyone here is dead _, Eris finally acknowledged with dawning horror._ What have we walked into? 

_But then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Eris realized that was no longer alone._

_There, in the room's darkest corner, huddled the slight body of an imprisoned female. Her hands were bound above her head and secured to a drapery tieback ring. Her unbound hair fell over her face, partially concealing her identity, and she was clad in a thin nightgown as if pulled from bed in the middle of the night._

_The female was limp and unresponsive to the sound of Eris hurried movements but, unlike the room’s other occupant, this female was breathing. He could see the subtle rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. Unconscious, but alive._

_Eris worked fast as he considered the facts. Those responsible for his people’s slaughter clearly wanted this female alive, but they kept her trussed up, so they did not consider her an ally. Eris hazarded a quick glance behind him, heedful of his surroundings and watchful for those responsible for the grisly carnage. They were alone, but he could only guess how long things would remain that way, and Eris felt his resolve harden._

_He was going to get her out of here._

_Eris rushed to the female with a newfound sense of urgency and took a knee at her side, lowering his sword and resting it beside him. He had his suspicions about her identity, but his first priority was to see to her freedom._

_“My lady?” He prodded, daring to raise his voice no louder than a whisper, lest he draws the attention of her captors. “My lady, can you hear me?”_

_The bedraggled female gave no response to his inquiry, so he set to work loosening her bindings. As he worked at freeing her, Eris became aware of several things._

_Firstly; the lady absolutely reeked of unnatural magic, and he highly doubted it was of her own manifestation. He’d only come across such magic once before, many decades ago when a group of mortals had breached the border wall that separated their realm from the Autumn Court. The humans were led by a woman who engaged in darker, unnatural magic. Her people had called her a witch._

_That mortal's magic was different from that of the fae. In Prythian the land granted the High Lord’s their magic in a give-and-take, symbiotic relationship. But the mortals had no such link to the land. They were cut off, unable to naturally access the powers. So they stole it, wrestled it away from the unwilling earth for their own selfish purposes._

_It was a vile thing, and the magic’s scent was a reflection of the land’s violation. Beron had killed the witch and pushed back the humans in a matter of days, but Eris would never forget the scent of the witch’’s stolen magic. It smelled like carrion. It smelled like death._

_And the unconscious female was absolutely enveloped by it._

_Secondly; Eris was almost positive that the female before him was none other than Nesta Archeron, sister of the High Lady of the Night Court. He’d been in her presence just once before, at the Hybern war council those many months ago, but Eris had taken note of her almost instantly. He remembered her, so small and defiant, unflinchingly staring down Beron and bending him to her will._

_Eris did not know how long the lady had been kept prisoner, but the preceding months had not been kind to her. She’d clearly lost a substantial amount of weight. Her shabby nightdress did little to hide her too-thin frame, and her previously healthy curves had all but disappeared. She was too gaunt, too disheveled, and had surely been existing in this condition for quite some time. Where were her people? Why did they allow her to languish for this long?_

_And then the third, more pressing fact presented itself he moment he freed the lady from her bonds. By the time he managed to untie the knot, the thin ropes unravelling and falling to the floor, the lady began to stir. She rolled her head back slowly until it was resting against the wall, eyes tightly closed as if in pain, and let out the softest moan._

_“My lady, can you hear me? We need to flee. May I carry you from here?” Eris asked._

_And that’s when Eris became aware of the third and final piece of information; they were no longer alone._

_The moment Eris finished speaking, a loud thump occurred almost directly overhead. He glanced at the ceiling, mind frantically working to decode the source of the sound. Something large had been dropped. Something with considerable weight._

_Something like a body._

_His blood froze. They needed to leave immediately._

_“I’m going to pick you up now. Please try not to make a sound.” Eris warned as he prepared to slide his hands under her body._

_But Nesta chose that moment to finally rouse, opening her eyes and blinking in confusion. Her dark eyes slid to meet his own, and she gazed at him without recognition. Her brows furrowed slightly, and Eris debated explaining his plans for escape. They didn’t have time to waste, but he couldn’t risk her protesting and drawing attention, not with Emmet upstairs and unable to winnow._

_However, before Eris could begin to explain the situation, she reached out and grabbed his hand within her own. She tightened her grip with a strength he didn’t think her frail body possessed, and uttered words of warning._

_“Run,” warned Nesta Archeron, voice horse from disuse, “you need to_ run _.”_

  
  


_~_

_The Cottage_

_The Autumn Court_

  
  


“Am I disturbing you, son?” Asked his mother, pulling Eris from his memoires. 

He looked up in time to see Lady Nayirah sweep into his office, studying him with a worried expression that, Eris suspected, only a mother could cultivate. He gave her a tired smile as he pushed back his memories. This was not the time to be dwelling on the past, no matter how much it haunted him. 

“Not at all. I’ve been reviewing the latest demands from the Autumn Council. Quite dull, and nothing to trouble yourself over.” Eris lied smoothly as he shuffled papers on his desk. 

Nayirah gave Eris a knowing smile as she gently sat down and smoothed out her skirts. Clearly she did not believe the lie for a moment. Despite her gentle demeanor, Lady Nayirah was no fool. She had been married to Beron for over half a millennia and bore him seven sons. Needless to say, she knew _all_ the tricks. 

So she merely folded her hands in her lap, and waited for Eris to continue.

Eris bit back a sigh, knowing it was pointless to resist. The last few days had been hard on everyone, and he didn’t want to upset her even further. But Nayirah was a brilliant female; he wouldn’t be able to hide the news, at best he could only hope to delay it. So instead of wasting energy of pointless deception, he decided to bring his mother up to speed on the latest events. 

“We’ve received another missive from Helion.” He admitted as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, doing his best to ward off the impending headache. “This one was addressed to Nesta directly.”

“Nesta?” Nayirah murmured as he picked up the sealed letter. “And he sent it here? To the Cottage?” 

Eris nodded in affirmation. Helion was, of course, one of the few fae in existence who knew of Nesta’s connection to the Cottage. While Forest House was the official residence of the High Lord of the Autumn, it was also the seat of the Royal Court. He couldn’t very well traipse Nesta before all of Autumn while _simultaneously_ keeping her existence a secret from the remainder of Prythian. 

So after assuming the role of High Lord, and with Nesta’s confidence in mind, Eris immediately began the process of setting up a separate residence. He decided on the vacation home from his youth, which they’d affectionately called the Cottage despite - or maybe _because_ of - its massive size. 

Nayirah maintained her residency in Forest House, electing to remain in her matrimonial chambers, which suited Eris perfectly. He wasn’t about to evict her mother from her own home, and besides, he had no desire to ever sleep in Beron’s bed, literally or figuratively. The further he removed himself from Beron’s leadership, the better. 

These days Eris rarely spent his nights at Forest House. He would almost always winnow back to the Cottage after concluding Court business. The Courtiers didn’t know what to make of his behaviour. The court was rife with rumours of a mistress, which he privately found amusing. After all, the Cottage wasn’t the home of an errant mistress. 

It was the home of his _wife._

Things had continued on in the same pattern for the past three years, with very few confidants aware of Nesta’s true identity. And up to a few short days ago, Helion had been one of them. Eris sighed again as he leaned back in his chair. 

“He likely only _suspects_ that Nesta is here.” Eris clarified. “Helion also sent several inquiries to both Forest House and Velaris, if Rhysand is to be believed.” 

It was unlikely that Rhysand had _lied_ about Helion’s missive to his personal estate, but Eris had spent the past five centuries distrusting the male, and wasn’t about to change that behaviour now. 

If Nayirah caught her son’s subtle dig at the High Lord of Night, she refrained from acknowledging it. Instead she focused on Helion’s latest missive, turning it over in her hands. 

“Are you going to read it?” She asked bluntly.

“No, not without Nesta’s permission. I didn’t want to invade her privacy.” He admitted softly. “So much has been taken away from her already. I didn’t want to add to that.” Nayirah looked unconvinced, so for her benefit he added. “Helion’s previous missives carried no great proclamations. They were more in the vein of begging for forgiveness, and other statements of a similar nature.”

His mother frowned slightly, before placing the letter back on Eris’ desktop. She shifted in her seat and began drumming her long fingers on her lap, a signal that something was weighing heavily on her mind. 

“Is something troubling you, mother?” He prodded, knowing full well that she wouldn’t rest until she had her say. 

“I’ve been giving some thought to our recent guests.” His mother began, and his headache began to bloom in earnest. “How long are we expecting to host them?”

This time Eris didn’t bother to hide his sigh. He could very well point out that Nayirah was _also_ a guest here, having elected to come for an extended stay after learning of Nesta’s homecoming. She said it was her intention to help nurse Nesta back to health, but Eris’ privately suspected that Nayirah was also invested in the drama surrounding the whole Inner Circle. 

And, gods, what a fucking mess that had been. 

It wasn’t his intention to reveal the marriage to Nesta’s family - quite frankly the less they knew about him, the better - but Feyre’s decision to cast him out of Velaris had forced his hand. As Nesta’s spouse, he had the lawful right to dictate the terms of her convalescence. The Night Court would have found themselves in a _very_ precarious position if they refused to release her. And although the marriage was not widely known, Elain could vouch for the legitimacy of the union. They really had no rebuttal. 

His announcement had been met with stunned disbelief, and for the first time in his long life, he’d actually shocked Rhysand to silence. While he knew that Nesta wouldn’t be happy by his revelation, Eris couldn’t help but savour the look on their faces. 

Feyre gaped at him for a moment, but then a look of steely determination crossed her face. Eris knew without a doubt that she intended to fight him on this, so he quickly worked to shut her down.

“I will be more than happy to produce the marriage contact if you doubt the validity of my claim.” He loftily offered. “But in the meantime feel free to confirm with Elain. She’s been aware of our marriage for years.” And then because he couldn’t help himself, he added. “Isn’t that right, _sister_?” 

And the next thing Eris knew; he was on the ground with two hundred and fifty pounds of irate Illyrian on top of him and doing his absolute best to rearrange the shape of Eris’ face. Pain burst from behind his eyes, temporarily dazing him, and the Illyrian took advantage of Eris’ stupor to continue beating the living shit out of him. 

He was distantly aware of feminine shrieking from somewhere far away, and then of the Illyrian being hauled off of him. Eris pushed himself into a sitting position, disoriented, before leaving over to spit blood out of his mouth. He stayed down low as he tried to reorientate himself, and happened to lock eyes with the Bastard, who was being held back by the other males. 

“You’re a fucking _liar_.” Howled the Bastard, struggling to free himself from his brother’s grips.

Eris only blinked as the world swayed beneath him 

He had the good sense not to provoke the Illyrian further. Or maybe he was just trying to get his bearings straight. Either way, he didn’t actually respond to any cursing male. At least he was pretty sure he didn’t. All of those details were still a little blurry. 

And then his vision was filled with the delicate features of Elain Archeron as she gingerly examined Eris’ face, or whatever was left of it.

“Oh, Cassian. How _could_ you?” Elain admonished while gently dabbing at Eris’ ravaged face with a handkerchief. She gave him a look of grave concern. “Does this hurt?”

It did. _By the gods,_ it did. 

“It’s nothing.” He said instead, while trying not to vomit.

Her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying.” Eris lied.

Elain raised one delicately arched brow to show just how much she believed _that_ particular statement, but offered no further commentary. When he was fairly certain that he was able to stand without toppling back over, Eris pushed himself to his feet. 

Rhysand, meanwhile, had managed to trap the Bastard in a full body hold, pinning down his arms and wings to keep him immobile. The Illyrian had calmed down a degree; now seemingly content to give Eris death stares, rather than actively trying to kill him. 

Progress, it would seem. 

Eris did his best to scrap together the shredded remains of his dignity, and then turned to address the younger Archeron.

“I will head home to arrange for the transfer of Nesta’s care, unless you have any further objections.” Eris advised with an air of confidence that he absolutely did not feel. 

He held his breath when Feyre paused - her response could very herald the start of a civil war - but she merely nodded in agreement. “I will return with my healers once arrangements have been finalized.”

And Eris turned to leave.

“Wait!” Feyre called out suddenly as she stretched her hand out , as if she was about to grasp him and then thought better. 

He paused, schooling his face into a mask of cool detachment, and waited for Feyre to continue. She peered up at him with those familiar blue-grey eyes, and Eris saw a flash of vulnerability play across her features.

“She is my sister. I have not seen her in three years, and your first action is to take her away from me.” Feyre announced. 

A statement, not a request. And yet…

“If you wish to accompany Nesta to Autumn, then allow me to pay back the same courtesy you have kindly shown me.” Eris told her, voice thick with irony. “I will grant you and your people safe haven in my personal home, for as long as it takes Nesta to recuperate.”

It wasn’t a wholly magnanimous gesture; they still had the pressing matter of the Mortal Queens to be dealt with. It was in their best interest for the Courts to remain united against the threat of the Queens. If he needed to swallow his pride to foster an air of harmony, then so be it. 

Besides, if Nesta awoke and summarily decided to cast the Inner Circle out of Autumn, Eris would happily, _personally_ honour her request. But, for now, he supposed he could grant her family safe haven until Nesta was able to decide otherwise.

Feyre nodded her head in gratitude, relief softening her features, and took a step back. Eris made to leave when he was interrupted for a second time.

“Stop!” Called out the bastard.

Eris froze upon hearing that one little word, and warily turned to face him. The room went still, waiting for the Bastard to speak with bated breath. The Illyrian was still within Rhysand’s grip, his face awash with misery. 

“ _You._ Why did she marry _you_?” He croaked out.

Eris stiffened, his eyes hardening at the Illyrain’s tone. 

“You’ll have to ask Nesta herself.” He snapped, and winnowed away from that cursed hellhole before anyone else had a chance to stop him.

Eris had been enraged by the Illyrain’s comments. The anger managed to burn away his exhaustion, and he channeled the newfound energy into preparing for Nesta’s arrival. He worked fast; fearful Feyre would have a change of heart over releasing her sister. The less time the Night Court had to reconsider the arrangement, the better. 

He took almost no time for himself; pausing only long enough to wash away evidence of the beating, lest his bloodied appearance inflame the already rampant rumours at court. He’d come across Nayirah en route to the healers at Forest House. His mother had taken one look at his battered face before dismissing the hovering courtiers to rush over to join him. Nayirah elongated her strides to keep pace with Eris’ expeditious march. 

“What have you done now?” She asked, gesturing to his face.

Eris shot her a look of annoyance as he led them towards the healer’s quarters. He may be the ruling High Lord of Autumn, but she often treated him like a misbehaving schoolboy. Still, time was of the essence, so he let the paternalism go. 

“I've just arrived from the Night Court.” Was his only response.

“Ahh.” Said Nayirah, as if that explained everything. 

Which it probably did. Nayirah was no stranger to their turbulent history. 

“They know of the marriage.” Eris added, and this time she _did_ look startled. “There was little other choice than to admit to it. They would not release Nesta to my care otherwise.”

“Nesta is coming home? To the Cottage?” Nayirah asked, and Eris confirmed with a quick nod of his head. 

“Her family was less than pleased about it, so I’ve extended an invitation to the Cottage. Just until Nesta is awake enough to cast them out herself.”

His mother paused at that, stopping Eris with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nesta’s extended family will be coming to the Cottage.” She said almost to herself, before a look of steely resolve swam into her eyes. “Then I will come as well. Nesta will need support in her recovery, and _you’ll_ need my assistance as well. After all, somebody needs to stop you children from killing each other.”

Eris shot her a frown before continuing onward. He didn’t bother arguing; he’d long since theorized that, if not for Beron, Lady Nayirah could have single handedly wrestled the courts into unity through her sheer determination alone. If his mother was willing to play buffer between the fractions, then he was more than happy to accept the help. Maybe even the adversarial Inner Circle could be tempered by Nayirah’s presence. 

Besides, Eris knew of the help Nayirah provided to Feyre during Amarantha’s trials. Perhaps he could use the resulting good will to his advantage. 

They’d made short work of the remaining tasks, rounding up their most knowledgeable healers and instructing the servants to prepare the Cottage for their incoming guests. And before the day was over, Eris winnowed their small group back to Velaris to retrieve his wife. 

The Inner Circle were ready for them, with their High Lord heading up the small group. Rhysand bowed low when welcoming Nayirah. It was a sign of respect - courtly protocol did not require a High Lord to bow to anyone - and his mother nodded her head graciously. Eris gazed at the waiting group, noting the Bastard was included among their numbers. 

Rhysand dutifully introduced the Inner Circle to his mother. Nayirah knew all of them, of course, as their history had been entwined since childhood. But she politely acknowledged every member of the Night Court when introductions were made. Eris felt his patience fleeting, eager for the false pleasantries to end. 

“Do you _all_ intend to visit Autumn?” Eris snapped. 

The underlying question was clear to everyone present. Feyre stiffened, casting a quick glance to the Illyrian at her side. 

“Yes.” Fayer said plainly. “All of us are quite eager to help with Nesta's recovery.” 

And that would have been the end of it, except the Bastard decided to speak up. 

“Nesta and I were working together, before the attack. I won’t rest until I see her awake and alert.”

Nayirah’s clever eyes flitted between Eris and the Bastard, one brow slightly lifted in quiet calculation, before turning a dazzling smile on the Illyrian.

“How fortunate my daughter-in-law must be, to have such caring friends.” She praised the Illyrian, expertly smoothing over any disagreements before they had the opportunity to erupt. 

It was impolite to note that Nesta spent the past three years _running_ from such friends, so Eris kept his mouth shut. 

The Autumn healers had taken over at that point, stabilising Nesta before winnowing her directly into Eris’ private chambers. Once his wife was safely installed in his room, they began the process of transferring the Inner Circle into the Cottage. Nayirah took over the role of hostess, leaving Eris to step back into the shadows. 

The Archeron sisters stayed close to Nesta’s side during her recovery, leaving only when their husbands pulled them out for meals or sleep. The healers assured Eris that she would remain blissfully unconscious for another day and a half, so Eris was content to let the sisters sit vigil. 

Rhysand had wanted to discuss strategy against the Mortal Queens, but so far Eris had managed to delay a meeting. His biggest priority was seeing Nesta awake and healthy. Nothing would receive his full attention until his wife was out of danger. 

So Eris spent the next day locked away in his private office, taking his meals at his desk, and only ventured out to visit Nesta in private. This was where his mother found him, determined to hold a discussion about their _guests._ He was appreciative that Nayirah had taken over the role of hostess, but it was apparent that she was up to something. 

“I’ve been giving some thought to our recent guests. How long are we expecting to host them?” His mother asked. 

“Unless Nesta is well enough to answer that question herself.” He answered with a small shug.

Nayirah gave a little nod, as if she expected that response. 

“The healers said that Nesta will awaken shortly.” His mother ventured, and Eris nodded in return. He was well aware of that fact. “I was thinking we should host a dinner, once Nesta is back on her feet.”

Eris stared at his mother in disbelief. _Huh?_

“That is… I don’t think that is our biggest priority at the moment.” He told her, baffled. 

Nayirah smiled at her son, raising to stand. 

“I can only imagine how busy you must be, but even a High Lord needs to eat. Think of it in more political terms; this could be the first step in bringing our two courts into a closer alliance.” She insisted as she headed towards the office door. 

“I hardly think this is the time for political machinations.” Eris called out.

Nayirah paused at that, arching a brow at her eldest son.

“Oh, _Eris._ ” His mother laminated. “If there is one thing you should have learned from your father, it was that there is _alway_ time for machinations.”

And with no further words, Nayirah swept out of the office in a swirl of skirts. Eris sighed as he watched her go, the headache now out in full force. So much for trying to avoid the Inner Circle. 

A banquet? It was a terrible idea. 

Eris sighed and rubbed his eyes. He really needed to speak to a healer about a headache remedy. He had a feeling he was going to need it. 

  
  
  


~~~~~~~

**Nesta**

  
  
  


_The Cottage_

_The Autumn Court_

  
The afternoon sun was streaming down on Nesta’s face when she awoke in an unfamiliar room, blinking in confusion. She reflexively turned her head from the window, slightly disoriented, and closed her eyes to block out the light. Her body was aching and her head was sore, but nothing that couldn’t be cured with a little extra sleep. Her pillows were soft and the mattress was inviting, and Nesta wanted nothing more than to curl up and drift off into another dreamless sleep. 

And then her sleep-addled mind caught up to her, and Nesta was gripped by panic.

_Where am I? Who has taken me?_

Nesta bolted upright, a cry tearing from her lips when the sudden movement set off a sharp pain in her side. Soft hands were on her immediately, gently pushing her back down into the soft mattress. 

“Nesta _it’s okay_. You’re safe. It’s alright.” Soothed a familiar voice. 

_Elain?_

Nesta pushed herself up - more slowly this time - and found herself face to face with her estranged sisters. Elain was hovering over the side of the bed, as if she had sprung into action during Nesta’s waking movements and was awaiting further instructions. Feyre stood behind her, looking rather unsure of herself, while holding a small serving tray. 

Nesta blinked up at her sisters, stunned. 

“Elain? _Feyre?_ ” She rasped in disbelief, voice thick from disuse.

Feyer was at her side in an instant, setting down the tray and thrusting a glass of water into Nesta’s hands. Her throat was dry and Nesta belatedly became aware of a deep, unabating thirst. She drank deeply, greedily draining the glass in three swallows. Feyre eagerly filled the glass back up and Nesta drank again, more slowly this time, while taking in her surroundings. 

The room was unfamiliar. Where _were_ they? Was this Velaris? Her sleep addled brain recognized that this wasn’t the House of Wind, but not much else. The events leading up to this moment were blurry and out of reach. Her sisters' presence was making everything even more confusing. Nothing was making sense. 

She finished the water and carefully placed the glass on the bedside table, a little heavy-handedly due to lingering fatigue, and tried to hide just how unsettled she felt. 

“Where are we?” Nesta asked, fighting to keep the alarm from her voice. 

“We’re in the Autumn Court, in Eris’ chambers.” Feyre told her softly as she perched on the side of her bed, a worried expression on her face. 

“Autumn?” Nesta repeated softly.

 _I’m back home? My_ sisters _are here?_ It was all too much to process. 

“You’re probably still a little disoriented. You’ve been asleep for over three days, after all.” Elain added. 

“I have?” Nesta echoed, visibly rattled.

“You awakened a couple times already, but never for very long. The healers kept you under while you were knit back together. Don’t you remember speaking with them?” Elain asked, clearly concerned. 

Nesta shook her head, not quite trusting herself to speak, while desperately racking her memories. She had been asleep for _three days_? Nothing was making sense. 

Until, all of a sudden, it did. 

_Helion._

All the memories came crashing back. Cassian. Helion. Her plans to come clean to the High Lords. Waiting alone. Helion’s early return. And then the pain. _The unforgettable pain._ Nesta gently touched her side; remembering the sharp, stabbing pain. Remembered being too afraid to see what caused it. 

Nesta remembered _everything._

“Helion.” She whispered softly, accusingly, and closed her eyes against a traitorous rush of tears. 

He stabbed her. Helion had stabbed her. The male she _revered_ , the male she had _loved like a father_ , had purposely tried to kill her. 

_Helion wanted her dead_.

“Oh.” She whispered again as she sagged back against the pillow. 

“Helion tried to... hurt you, but the boys were able to stop him.” Feyre supplied awkwardly. “You’re safe now. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

Nesta could only nod as she angrily wiped away tears with the back of her hand. 

_I don’t need to worry about Helion? I am to forget about him? Just like that?_

How could she even begin to explain how deeply Helion’s actions cut her to the core? What could she say? That Helion was like a father to her? Their real feather was willing to let them starve. Didn’t show her an ounce of love until his death. But Helion? Helion showered Nesta with love, but was ultimately willing to let Nesta die without a fight. At the end of the day it was all the same: her father figure had let her down yet again. 

But would her sister even understand? Her sisters; who were loved so easily, so completely? The Inner Circle had welcomed them with open arms, and the younger Archeron sisters had been secure in that love ever since. 

But that was never really the case for Nesta. She was not an easy woman - an easy female - to love. Hell, even her own sisters never really understood her, especially Feyre. Feyre had always painted her as a heartless shrew. So… why waste her breath? 

So Nesta did what she always did: turned her cheek and pushed down her pain. She tilted her head away from her sisters, unwillingly to let them see her anguish. The mattress dipped slightly, causing Nesta to open her eyes. Feyre had crossed to the other side and climbed onto the bed, lying down to face her. And despite her heartache; Nesta couldn’t help but recall a simpler time years prior, before their father had fucked up and ruined everything. Nesta remembered the young child the High Lady used to be. Remembered the long limbs, messy plaits, and toothy grins. It pained her to think that those children were long gone, never to be seen again. 

And yet, while Feyre may have grown into the elegant, self-assured High Lady, she would always be her baby sister. 

“Hey, there.” Feyre whispered as she pushed a lock of hair away from Nesta’s tear streaked face.

“Hi.” Nesta whispered back.

The bed shifted as Elain lay down behind her, and then Nesta was wrapped up in Elain’s comforting embrace, while Feyre continued to stroke her hair. 

And then, without meaning to, her tears began to freely fall. 

It wasn’t intentional. Nesta was used to hiding her vulnerability, but she was tired and rattled and couldn't seem to stop herself once the tears began to flow. Her sisters didn’t laugh, or mock her, or show disgust. They simply made sounds of comfort and ran a comforting hand down her arm or her back. 

Nesta gave into the pain and let herself cry, freely grieving the loss of yet another father. 

And her sisters stayed right there on her bed, and let her. 

  
  


~

She must have drifted off to sleep at some point. One moment she was being held in her sister’s embrace, and the next she found herself alone on the oversized bed. Nesta gently pushed herself into a sitting position, careful since each little movement seemed to tug at her healing wound. 

Elain was at her side in an instant, offering a fresh glass of water which Nesta immediately accepted. Her earlier headache had dissipated, but she was still a little groggy. 

“Was I out for very long?” Nesta asked.

“Not long at all, maybe a little less than an hour?” Elain told her with a soft smile. “Feyre is taking an early supper with Rhysand, but I stayed back so you wouldn’t wake up alone.”

Nesta gave Elain what she hoped was a gracious smile, even if she didn’t really feel that way. This whole ordeal threw her off, and she would have preferred some time alone in order to reorient herself. Still, she was thankful that it was Elain and _not_ Feyre who stayed back to watch her. 

“Oh, Lady Nayirah stopped by to see you.” Elian continued on, blissfully unaware of Nesta’s inner monolog. “She was thrilled to hear you had awakened. She was about to send for the healers, but we managed to convince her to hold off and let you sleep a little while longer.”

“Nayriah came to visit?” Nesta asked, pleasantly surprised. And then a thought struck her. “Are we at Forest House?”

“No, we’re at the Cottage.” A slight crease appeared between her sister’s eyes. “The healers said confusion was to be expected. Should I fetch them so they can look you over.”

Nesta waved her hand dismissively, then carefully manoeuvred her legs over the side of the bed. 

“I’d rather take a moment to clean up.” She admitted a little sheepishly.

Elain helped her to her feet, hands held out in a precautionary measure, but Nesta was able to stand under her own power without further assistance. 

She longed for normalcy, or at least as close to it as she could get in this situation, and returning to familiar space was the first step. Nestsa took a moment to use her facilities since her flet bladder felt close to bursting, but afterwards set out in search of her own rooms. 

Elain clasped Nesta’s arm within her own, and the sisters set off. Once they were alone in the halls, Nesta asked the pressing question that had been on her mind ever since waking.

“So, do they know about the marriage?” She asked in a conspiratorial tone.

Elain made a pained expression, and Nesta had her answer. 

“They know you’re married, but not much else. Eris is holed up in his office, and is refusing to answer any questions.”

“Oh, _gods_.” She muttered, grimacing to herself. “I can’t even begin to imagine how that went down.”

“A little better than I had anticipated.” Elain answered carefully.

Nesta slid a glance to Elain, wondering if her sister was trying to placate her, but Elain’s guileless expression gave nothing away. And then her stomach dropped as another realization struck her. _Cassian. Cassian must know_. She hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if she was ready for the answer. 

“Is Cassian here?” She finally asked.

Elain paused, as if considering the best way to answer the question, and her stomach plummeted even further. 

“He is.” Elain confirmed. “I haven’t really seen him, since I’ve been spending my time with you. Azriel said that he’s been pretty quiet. He hasn’t specifically brought it up with anyone.”

Nesta’s stomach tightened at the news. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ He wasn’t supposed to find out. Not like this. 

She was quiet for the remainder of the walk. They were fortunate enough to not pass any bystanders along the way, something she was immensely grateful for. Major developments had unfolded when she was blissfully unconscious, and it felt like her world was spinning away, out of her control. Nesta wanted to, _needed_ to claw back some small measure of control before facing anyone else. 

She stopped them in front of her bedchamber and freed herself from Elain’s grasp. 

“I can take it from here.” Nesta assured her sister, who simply arched a brow in a dubious expression. “Elain, I’m fine. Really. I’m just going to bathe before seeing the healers. Trust me, I don’t need your help with that.”

Elain nodded her head in reluctant acceptance, brushed a kiss across her temple and headed off in the direction of the guest wing. Nesta supposed that she shouldn’t really blame Elain. After all, Nesta had begun to scale back her visits once Azriel began courting her sister, and stopped entirely once she realized the true depth of their feelings for each other. Nesta didn’t want to be the person who stood in the way of her sister’s happiness. Elain hadn’t been pleased with Nesta’s decision, but did her best to respect it. 

She glanced around her chamber and was strangely grateful to see that everything was just as she had left it, giving her a little bit of normalcy to cling to. Nesta began the process of filling up her clawfoot tub, before stripping off her gown and inspecting herself the mirror. Her skin now bore a puckered, angry red scar in the spot where Helion stabbed her. Nesta gently brushed her fingers over the mark. The skin was tender, but the healers did a fine job knitting her flesh back together. It pulled a little when she twisted her torso, but nothing that she couldn’t manage. Besides Nesta didn’t mind the scar itself; she carried many more scars on the inside, and she hadn’t let them stop her yet. 

Nesta eased herself into the bath, relishing the feel of her muscles relaxing in the steaming water. She closed her eyes while she soaked, taking a moment to unwind and sit in peace for a little while. She stayed here until the water began to cool, then lathered up a washcloth and scrubbed away the sweat and grime that still clung to her skin. Next she detangled then cleaned her hair, submerging herself underwater to rinse away the shampoo. 

A small part of her dreamed about shifting away completely, escaping to somewhere warm and scenic. Nesta ignored the impulse, releasing the bathwater and stepping out of the tub. She had run from her issues long enough. It was time to face them head on. 

Nesta dried off and slipped into a robe, before heading over to her spacious closet to select something to wear. Nayriah took great pleasure in keeping Nesta stocked in all the latest fashions. Eris’ mother spent her life surrounded by males and claimed that she was taking full advantage of Nesta’s presence, treating Nesta like the daughter she never had. 

She scanned the wide selection of her closet, filled to the brim with elegant gowns that she almost never had the opportunity to wear. She selected a simple muslin gown with clean lines that, knowing Nayriah’s tastes, likely cost a small fortune. Next she braided her hair and was in the process of pinning it up, when there was a knock on the door. 

Nesta froze, unprepared. She had not been expecting anyone, thought to have more time to ready herself. Her stomach tightened with nerves as she headed to the door, taking a steadying breath, before pulling open the door to reveal the apprehensive face of the High Lord of Autumn.

“Eris!” She cried out in relief, flinging herself into his arms. 

Eris stumbled back from the force of her impact, before tentatively pulling her into a warm embrace. She gave him a squeeze, thankful that _he_ had been the one to seek her out. He was comfortingly familiar; a reassuring talisman in transitional times. 

“You’re back on your feet. Are you feeling better?” He asked, the sound of his voice muffled by Nesta’s hair. 

She nodded against his chest before leaning back to look at him, gasping in shock at the state of his face. She grasped his face and pulled him closer, tilting it back and forth to get a better view. His eye was bruised and swollen, with a small laceration cutting across his brow. 

“What happened to your face?” She asked, releasing him.

Eris grimaced as he straightened up, gently prodded his swollen eye as if he’d forgotten about the damage. 

“It’s fine, just a misunderstanding.” He assured her as he stepped into her room, shutting the door behind them. 

“That is hardly the result of a simple misunderstanding. Why have you not gone to see a healer?”

“The healers were a little preoccupied with _you_ , Nesta.” He reminded her with an arch of a brow, then pushed the conversation forward before Nesta could begin an inquisition. “How are you feeling? My mother came right by to tell me you had already awakened, but when I went to my room you were already gone.”

Nesta sat down at her writing desk and gestures for Eris to make himself comfortable. He perched on the edge of her desk, casting a worried eye upon her.

“I’m as right as rain.” She promised, comfortably slipping into mortal vernacular in Eris’ presence. “I was a little groggy at first, but I think that was an after-effect of the spells used to keep me under. But you need to stop defecting; what happened to _you_? Was this Helion’s doing?”

“No, Helion was smart enough to cease all aggression once we came to collect you. He’s in enough trouble as it is. He would have started an all out war if he didn’t back down.”

“So what happened that night? I remember Helion showing up, but then everything gets a little blurry.”

Eris took the time to explain the chain of events that led to Nesta’s confinement. He started with detailing the actual showdown with Helion, knowing that Nesta would want to learn the painful details first. Nesta bit her lip as she listened, doing her best to ignore the ache in her heart. There would be time to grieve Helion later. 

She winced when Eris rounded back to the beginning, dispassionately describing the Inner Circle’s sudden appearance at his doorstep. Nesta would have preferred to inform Eris of Cassian’s involvement on her own terms, but Eris was sequestered away at the High Lord Summit. She’d already been caught trespassing once and couldn't risk capture a second time. She hated that Eris had been pulled into her personal catastrophe with no prior warning. 

A regret that was, apparently, becoming all too common these days.

However Eris stopped her cold when he informed her of the Mortal Queen’s latest scheme, and her blood froze when she learned about the Queen’s ultimatum.

“The Queens had demanded that the High Lords turn me over to their authority on the threat of war?” Nesta repeated, stunned. She turned the words over in her head, unable to believe the news. “How did they even _know_ to approach the High Lords? We were always careful to cover our tracks. How were they able to make the connection?”

Eris shrugged his shoulders in a decidedly undignified manner, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

“It was likely an educated guess. Helion’s spellwork to shield you from the witches is incredibly advanced, so it's obvious that you’re receiving outside help. I’m guessing they address _all_ of the High Lords in order to cast a wider net and catch the attention of the parties responsible.”

“And it worked.” She admitted dejectedly, slumping back in her chair with a frown.

“Well, there is naught to be done about it. The Queens took a risk, and it paid off in their favour. I’m sure the High Lords have figured out our connection by now. Tarquin, Kallias and the lot would have noticed our immediate departure, and put two and two together.”

Her gaze flicked up to meet Eris’.

“You think the High Lords figured out our alliance?” She asked, dismayed. 

He shrugged again, picking a romance novel up off her desk and flipping through the pages. 

“I’m assuming they do by this point. I’ve received a few letters from Tarquin requesting my immediate return.” He arched a golden-red brow and cast her a grin. “It’s also equally possible that they’re just trying to confirm that Rhysand didn’t actually kill me, since he also disappeared at the same time.”

“Oh, that's _not funny_ .” Nesta hissed as she slapped his leg in reprisal. Eris laughed at the action, sliding out of her reach in case she thought to redouble her efforts. Still, his relaxed manner helped soothe some of her anxiety.   
“How bad is it?” She asked softly, referring to his interactions with the Night Court, and it was Eris’ turn to frown as he considered his answer. 

“It’s not great.” He admitted. “They have never trusted me. Nor I, them. Our shared animosity has existed for centuries, well before you and I ever crossed paths. I should be grateful that Elain’s geas allowed her to verify our marriage, otherwise your Illyrian friends may have _actually_ murdered me.” 

Nesta stiffened at his words, suddenly uncomfortable. The exposure of her marriage was something that she had long dreaded. She would have preferred to avoid completely if possible. _And Cassian's reaction..._

“How much do they know? About us, I mean.” 

His golden eyes flickered away at her question, focusing on a bookshelf on the other side of the room as if he wasn’t quite ready to gage her reaction, and Nesta’s heart sunk just a little bit further. 

“They know that we’re married, of course. I didn’t want to reveal anything without your consent, but your lovely sister had planned to cast me out of Velaris. I didn’t have a choice.” He told her with an indifferent tone. 

But Eris still couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Thank you, Eris.” She told him softly, solemnly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

He looked back at her, his handsome face softening just a little. 

“For you? Anything.” He told her earnestly, and then that mischievous brow rose again to signify a change in mood. “Now that you’re awake i feel I should give you fair warning: my mother is insisting we host dinner”

Nesta blinked, whiplashed by the sudden change in topic and not quite sure she was processing this correctly.

“Host.... a dinner?” She repeated. 

“Yes,” Confirmed Eris, before helpfully adding, “for your family.”

Oh. _Oh._

If you were to list all the incredibly reckless things she had done lately - and even _Nesta_ had to admit there were a lot of them - this particular idea seemed to reign supreme.

“Am I understanding this correctly: we are in the middle of a crisis, the mortal queens have placed a bounty on my head, the remaining High Lords may be considering it, and your mother wants to _host a dinner_?”

“Yes.” Eris agreed sagely. 

“With _my_ _family_?” Nesta added, aghast.

“Yes.” Eris repeated, a ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. 

“That seems like a terrible idea.” She admitted. 

The hint of a smile broke into a full blown, boyish grin 

“Oh, most definitely” Eris agreed. 

“Perhaps we should try to convince her otherwise?” She offered blithely.

Golden eyes slid to meet hers.

“If you wish to address the matter with the dowager directly, then please by all means, do so.” He said with a gallant wave of his hands.

“You are the High Lord of Autumn.” Nesta sniffed. “Are you going to allow your mother to run rampant throughout your own court?”

Eris crossed his arms over his chest as he considered Nesta’s words. He straightened, a look of utter seriousness colouring his features.

“Yes, yes I am.” He finally announced.

 _“Coward._ ” She chided with a glare, but the moment was lost when a laugh crept out of her throat. 

Eris grinned unabashedly in return. He jumped up from her desk and brushed non-existent dust off of his trousers.

“What a fine pair the two of us make.” He declared, and Nesta felt her smile tremble in response. “We should celebrate your return to the land of the living. Have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t yet.” She confessed, and her empty stomach rumbled in agreement. She blushed slightly, placing a hand on her abdomen.

He merely chuckled at her as he made way towards the exit. “I’ll wander over to the kitchen to see what I can scrounge up. You’ll need some reinforcement before facing your adoring audience. And I will need wine! Lots and lots of wine!”

Eris slipped out the door without another word, and Nesta huffed a laugh. She returned to her dressing table to finish pinning up her braids, securing them in place with the set of gilded combs that Nayriah gifted her last solstice. 

Her thoughts drifted back to Eris, grateful for his presence. He always knew the quickest way to temper her moods, and much of her earlier stress had waned away. Yes, they were facing many uncertain trials and tribulations, but Eris was a good male and she took comfort in his neverending support.

A gentle knock on her door interrupted her musings, and Nesta briefly glanced up as she finished securing the last golden comb. 

“Come in. You don’t have to always knock, you know.” Nesta called to Eris, returning her gaze to the mirror to give her hair a final appraisal. She was smoothing down a flyaway lock when her bedroom door swung open, the action perfectly framed within the looking glass. 

But the familiar figure of the High Lord of Autumn wasn’t the male who she locked eyes with in her mirror. Nesta felt the blood rush to her face as she spun around to greet her visitor directly. Because Eris wasn’t the male that Nesta so carelessly invited into her room. No, the man before her was the opposite of Eris in every way possible. 

Because, standing before her with an inscrutable expression, was Cassian. 

Nesta jumped out of her chair a little too quickly, her recently healed wound screaming in protest, but all she could focus on was the male before her. Nesta’s stomach trembled with trepidation and a burgeoning delight. 

_Cassian. Cassian is here._

He was clad in full Illyrian leathers, his hair pulled tightly back and away from his face. He was as darkly handsome as always, but something felt _off._ Wrong. His dark gaze was focused intently on her, but there wasn’t even a trace of warmth in those beautiful hazel eyes. He just stood there, staring her down with a coldly impenetrable expression. His countenance gave nothing away. His glimmering Siphons were the only indication of Cassian’s raging emotions, hidden away beneath an icy exterior.

“Hi” She said softly, trying to force a smile and knowing it didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

Cassian didn’t respond, didn’t react to her gentle greeting. Just continued to wordlessly appraise her. Nesta felt the first tendrils of ice begin to form in her chest, because she knew that a reckoning was coming. 

She had never before shied away from antagonizing Cassian, a small part of her secretly enjoyed it. He was hot-blooded; quick to anger, but also equally quick to forgive. Cassian was both the rainbow and the storm. 

But _this_ male? _This_ version of Cassian? She didn’t recognize the male who stood before her. Didn’t recognize the male who was looking at Nesta like he saw the sum of all her faults, and found her wanting. Cassian was quiet. He was much too quiet. This was the calm before the storm. Was this to be their breaking point? Would the upcoming storm ravage things beyond repair? 

Did he know just how much power he had over her? Would he use that against her? 

Nesta refused to fill the empty silence with mindless babbling and platitudes. She stiffened her spine, lifted her chin, and met his gaze head on. Nesta Archeron was many things; a known thief, an unworthy sister, an unpleasant shrew. But she would never give them reason to call her a coward. 

It seemed that Nesta was still a prideful creature, after all. 

They stayed like that for several tense moments, each refusing to speak, until the oppressive air was almost suffocating. 

“How long were you waiting to tell me?” Cassian finally asked her, his voice icily calm.

And while Cassian was the one the first one to break, Nesta almost wished he said nothing at all.

“You are referring to my marriage to Eris, I assume?” Nesta said in a deceptively light, unbothered tone. 

Cassian flinched at that, at the casual way she referred to her union, and Nesta tried to ignore the ice cracking in her chest. Cassian was here to cut her to the quick, and she would not give him the privilege of seeing her break. She would not give him that, so she hardened her gaze, giving him nothing.

“Did you think to hide it from me, Nesta?” He asked, slowly stalking forward until he was mere inches from her. “Does your marriage mean so little to you, that it wasn’t even worth a mention?”

She opened up her mouth to protest, to deny his words, but the air raced from her lungs and rendered her speechless when he caught that damnable loose lock of hair and twisted it between his fingers. Nesta hated the way her body reacted to him, hated that he was able to throw her off balance, hated that she wanted him still. Even thought Cassian wanted nothing more than to break her. Even now.

“Does your marriage mean so little?” He whispered as he bent down, his head a hair's breadth away from her own, this throaty voice a low rumble in her ear. Nesta’s eyes closed despite herself. Relishing in his closeness. Revelling in it. “Does your marriage mean so little, that it didn’t even cross your mind when your tongue was down my throat? When my hand was up your skirts?”

Her eyes flew open, nostrils flaring in anger, and she shoved the male away from her. Cassian stumbled back a few paces, and Nesta had the distinct impression that he moved only because he _allowed_ himself to be moved. 

“Fuck you.” She snarled. 

Cassian laughed at that, low and dark, his face an expression of foreboding amusement. 

“Ahh, Sweetheart. You forget yourself; you already tried that, once. Remember?”

“Get out of my sight. Get _out._ ” Nesta hissed, fists clenched at her sides. “If you are just here to mock me then I want you _gone_.” 

Cassian only raised an ink-black brow in derision. 

“Do you think, _my Lady_ , that I am nothing more than a bastard born nobody? That you could simply fuck me, then walk away when you had your fill of pleasure?” His deep, contemptuous voice carried no hint of the playful teasing. 

It stung. It stung more deeply than she could have ever thought possible. 

“And what do you think would have happened, _my Lady_ , if Helion did not interrupt our little dalliance in the garden? Have you been taking your monthly tonic to prevent pregnancy? Because I have not. 

“And let me explain one thing; an Illyrian’s blood is not quite so thin as our High Fae counterparts. Us Illyrians have been bred to fight and to fuck, and we thrive at both of those things. If I fucked you that night, would I have gotten a bastard on you? Because it _would_ be a bastard. You know that, right? 

“How would you explain _that_ away to your snivelling little High Lord of a Husband? How would his Lordship feel about a half-breed Illyrian inheriting his throne? Don’t you think that is worth consideration, _my Lady_?”

Nesta didn’t say anything to that, _couldn’t_ say anything. Her megaer walls were crumbling at Cassian’s words. It was the first time he had ever voiced the possibility of a child between then, and there was such scorn in his voice. It took every ounce of her considerable willpower to keep the tears reined in. She didn’t want to fight him anymore. At best, she wanted to shield just how much he had hurt her. 

_It’s too late._ She realized belatedly, and she was a fool to ever think otherwise. _It didn’t matter if I went to him three days ago, or three years ago. It was always going to be too late._

Nesta didn’t have the strength to meet his eyes anymore, he could claim victory over that particular battle. She couldn’t look into those alluring hazel eyes and risk seeing hatred reflected back at her. That would be the thing that breaks her. She was barely holding it together. So she turned away to face her mirror, to look at anything but him.

 _I’ll cry as soon as he leaves, and_ not _a second before,_ Nesta swore to herself. She needed to keep it together for just a little longer. 

“I gave up _everything_ for you.” Cassian told her, voice breaking.

Nesta closed her eyes, swallowing down the lump in her throat and fighting to hold onto her defences. 

“I never asked you to.” She whispered, eyes closed tightly. 

He laughed at that, but the bite was gone. Cassian just sounded tired. 

“No…. you didn’t, did you?” Cassian remarked softly, almost to himself. “I guess I was just a fool.”

The heavy stillness of the room was broken by the sudden opening of a door, and Nesta turned in time to see Eris enter her room. He was pushing a service cart ladened with a small offering of broth, breads, and other items suitable for recently recovered patients. Eris paused when he saw Cassian in the room, his amber eyes widening in shock.

“I will not trouble you any further, _my Lady_.” Cassian announced before giving her a sharp, respectable bow before turning to leave. 

Eris and Nesta were left to stare at each other in wide-eyed bemusement, Eris’ brows furrowing as he took in her distressed countenance. 

Cassian paused on his way out, stopping beside the High Lord.

“She’s all yours.” Cassian told Eris, then walked out the room without a backwards glance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to AbsentMinds who helped edit this absolute monster of a chapter and, of course, Romaisamaria who is forced to read my melodramatic drivel on a daily basis and still hasn't blocked my # 
> 
> My little corner of the world remains in a state of emergency, which means I have a lot less free time to write, which means the next update will likely occur the week of February 1st. (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻ 
> 
> Now... Did you happen to catch the audiobook snippet that leaked last week? 
> 
> ***Spoiler***
> 
> Nesta dancing with Eris while Cassian watches from the sidelines? I think my heart stopped beating for a minute there. I never _dreamed_ that those two would have actually, _cannon_ interaction. How crazy is that?
> 
> As always: it would make my week if you dropped a comment. 
> 
> The next chapter is called: The Dinner Party


	10. The Wedding of Nesta Archeron

~~~~~~~

  
  


**Eris**

  
  


_Three years prior_

  
  


_“Run!” warned Nesta Archeron, eyes alight with panic. “You need to_ run _!”_

_Eris stared down at the small female before him, alarmed. She did not recognize him, or, if she did, her pallid face did not acknowledge it. Her little hand was clutching his so tightly that her nails pierced his skin, drawing blood. Eris could not help but wonder about the traumas she had faced; about the tribulations she had obviously suffered, for what had brought her to such poor physical condition? She was too gaunt, too worn-down and dishevelled. Nothing at all like the female who commanded respect and attention at Hybern war counsel. Her eyes were wild, flickering around the room as she searched the shadows. For what? He did not know._

_And Eris did not plan on staying here long enough to find out._

_The scent of her terror was quickly overwhelming him, filling Eris with a sense of urgency that prompted him into action. It was clear that she was unable to move under her own power, so he sheathed his sword and slid his arms under her too-thin body._

_“Do not fear, my lady. I am leaving,” he promised, hauling her against his chest, “and I’m taking you with me.”_

_Nesta let out a weak cry as Eris regained his feet, the movement jolting her bruised and battered body. He cradled her close, praying that the secure hold would aid in stabilizing her, but there was little else to be done about it. A speedy exit was of the utmost importance, and the lady should forgive a little jostling if it resulted in their immediate escape._

_She weakly clutched his tunic in either relief or distress, and Eris noticed that her forearm had been wrapped in a blood soaked dressing. Her captors were taking effort to keep her alive, and would likely be extremely vexed to discover her missing. Speed and stealth were imperative to escaping undetected. He moved as quickly and quietly as possible, heading back outside with his precious cargo tucked away, secured in his arms._

_It troubled him to abandon Emmet - even temporarily - but Nesta was vulnerable and defenceless, whereby the Senior Guardsman could protect himself. Eris just needed to reach the safety of the treeline where he could hand her over to the waiting sentries. His Lord father was invested in the lady’s health and safety; Beron would ensure that no further harm would befall her on this day._

_Eris slipped out of the dark dining room and found freedom waiting for them in the form of an open door at the end of the long, dim corridor. The low sunlight filtering through was like a beacon, beckoning them to safety,_

_“We will be away in no time at all.” Eris murmured, his voice a soft whisper._

_They were no more than a third of the way down the dark hallway when Eris’ keen hearing picked out the sound of footsteps traveling one floor above them. He paused, straining his ears as he tracked the sound. The steps were not heavy, but it was also not the gait of someone who was trying to move around undiscovered. Eris understood implicitly that the creature responsible for the footsteps_ was not _his Senior Guardsman._

_And the unknown individual was currently heading towards the stairs._

_He fastened Nesta in his arms and gave up all pretexts of covertness, choosing speed over secrecy as he dashed towards the open doorway. The footfall paused for a fraction of a second, then began to clatter heavily as they made their way towards the staircase, rushing down to meet them._

_Eris ran as fast as possible, catching a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as the unknown villain came tearing down the stairs, hot in pursuit. Eris did his best to ignore them, wholly focused on escaping this cursed house of horrors and putting distance between them at the murderous creature._

_He made it through the doorway and bolted into the mist-covered field. Their pursuer reached the ground floor half a heartbeat later, their footsteps loudly echoing throughout the hallway as they gave chase._

_Sweat was beading his skin despite the cool morning air. He pushed himself forwards, running away from the unknown threat at breakneck speed. Eris tore through the field, excruciatingly aware of how dangerous it was to present his back to their pursuer, If their hunter carried any type of throwing weapon, he was as good as dead._

_They were a hundred feet away from the treeline; tantalising close but still too far away. They wouldn’t make it in time. Cursing to himself, Eris skidded to a halt and pivoted to face their attacker._

_He could offer no protection with his arms full, so he withdrew the arm supporting Nesta’s legs and thrusted it protectively in front of them, wreathing his hand in rolling flames. Nesta’s legs fell to the ground; she stumbled, would have gone down completely if not for his crushing grip around her shoulders. He pulled her tight against his side, keeping her upright while preparing to face off with the creature chasing after him._

_And blinked, stunned at the sight before him._

_For on the porch stood a young human. Eris could scent her mortal blood from even this distance. He would guess that she was an adolescent, certainly not a grown woman, and her wild appearance suggested the girl was not a member of polite society. Her tangled, unkempt hair was unbound. Her formerly white dress was wrinkled. The hem sopping wet and stained with blood, as if she trod through thick puddles of blood with nary a thought to her garment._

_The girl froze when Eris spun around, caught off guard by her quarry’s abrupt about-face. Her eyes were wide, nostrils flaring, her body tense in preparation for any sudden movement._

_They were at a standoff._

_“What are you doing here, child?” He asked._

_Eris eyed her warily, cautiously. She may only be a simple child, left to guard their incapacitated prisoner while the true threat roamed the outlying forest, but he knew better than to drop his guard completely. Someone had easily disarmed, detained, and tortured a handful of Autumn's most elite sentries. Nesta Archeron was famed for striking the killing blow on the King of Hybern, yet she had also fallen under their clutches. This girl may have not committed the act herself, but she was clearly an accomplice. So Eris would learn from the mistakes of his people and not underestimate the young girl before him._

_“Let her go.” The child ordered, voice thin and reedy. Her glossy eyes shifted back and forth between the fae. “Let her go and your death will be quick.”_

_As far as threats against his life generally went, this was certainly one of the more underwhelming ones._

_“Where is my Senior Guardsman?” He asked her instead. She gave Eris a confused look, so he added. “The male who was searching the upper levels. What did you do with him?”_

_A look of recognition glimmered in her eyes, and a self-satisfied grin spread out over her ratlike face._

_“I_ killed _him. I killed your man.” She crowed in a sing-song voice. “I slit his throat and bled him like a stuck pig. He pissed himself, too. I almost stepped in it, and it would have ruined my slippers” She pulled up the hem of her dress to display the bloodsoaked shoes, twisting her ankle back and forth in a macabre pantomime._

_Eris had never been particularly keen on meriting out punishment on females, but he would happily make an exception for this vexatious bitch. He was torn between delivering Nesta Archeron to safety, and his pressing need to avenge his guardsmen. He hefted his hand a little higher, the heat from the growing flames licking his skin._

_“You can’t go.” The child carried on, ignoring the obvious threat with a perturbed stomp of her foot. “Nesta doesn’t belong to_ you _. You can’t take her.”_

_“No, no.” Rasped Nesta, weakly pulling on the lapel of his jacket. “We have to go.”_

_He ignored the lady, focused solely on the child before him. He would deliver Nesta to safety immediately after dispensing justice for his males. If the child took one step towards them, he would happily send the little bitch back to hell._

_But the child did no such thing. Instead , she dropped her hands and cocked her head, a line forming between her brows, deep in concentration. Eris’ magic churned in anticipation; the orange flames cackling as he prepared for an attack, but the girl made no sudden movement towards them. She didn’t move at_ all. _Her arms hung loosely at her side with complete disregard to her own defence. But then the girl’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, right until the iris disappeared completely and only the milky whites remained._

_It was more than a little disconcerting. He hesitated for a moment, trying to decipher the purpose of the girl’s movement, and that was when she struck. The repugnant scent of unnatural magic filled his nostrils and he realized his fatal flaw; she wasn’t the simple murderess that he mistook her for._

_No, this child was a witch._

_He jerked back in surprise and pushed Nesta behind him, physically placing himself between the two females. He had almost no experience with witches, had never taken one on alone. Beron had slaughtered a witch, and was more familiar with their potential strengths and weaknesses, but his father remained back in the mist-covered forest, ignorant of the situation playing out less than a quarter mile away._

_Eris raised his arm, prepared to unleash the full force of his fire at the exact time the witch’s eyes slid back to meet his, refocusing her gaze._

_“Uh-oh.” She cooed, her thin lips pulling into an eerie smile._

_The little witch lifted her hand and pointed a finger at Eris, sardonic delight glimmering in her eyes._ No, that wasn’t right. _She wasn’t pointing directly at Eris, but rather she was pointing_ behind _him. His hackles rose as he cautiously turned around, instinctively aware that a great threat now lay at his back._

_He was met with the enthralled presence of Nesta Archeron. She swayed back and forth dreamily, as if moving to a song that only she could hear. Her body was limp, relaxed. Her expression was whimsical. But her eyes…. Her eyes were the same milky-white shade that the witch's had been._

_Without warning; Nesta’s slim arm shot out, grasping him around the throat with preternatural strength. The grip was far too crushing to be emanating from her frail, weakened body. Eris extinguished his flames, grasping at the hands around his throat, trying to dislodge that strangling grip. Her dreamy face was utterly tranquil, completely at odds with her suffocating grasp. The ensorcelled female was killing him, and wasn’t even cognisant of the fact._

_Eris dropped a hand from this throat, refocusing on the slim arm clutching him. Nesta was frail and it wouldn‘t take much to break her. He had no desire to hurt the female, but his vision was beginning to blur and time was running out. If Eris wasn’t able to free himself shortly then he was a dead male._

_He slammed a fist into her elbow, snapping her arm and breaking her hold. Nesta stumbled back a few steps, arm bent at an unnatural angle, but her expression remained placid and her milky white eyes were unchanging. She straightened slightly as she regained her balance, but made no further move to attack._

_Eris took a few steps to his left, trying to keep an eye on both females simultaneously. He didn’t know what the witch’s next move would be, but wanted to be prepared for anything._

_“That wasn’t fair.” Hissed the witch with an indignant stomp of a foot. “Nesta belongs to us. You don’t have permission to harm our things. Don’t you touch her.”_

_It was such a preposterous display that a laugh barked out of him. The witch was half a step away from fully on temper-tantrum, except her outburst was more likely to result in murder and mayhem than timeouts and skipped desserts. Eris leaned back, tiring of her theatrics. He reestablished his fire with the sole purpose of sending the witch into a fiery grave, the autumn flames would chase her right back to hell._

_But before he could strike out, Nesta suddenly jerked forward, stumbling a few steps before collapsing with a strangled cry. Eris stared down at her as his brain frantically tried to process the scene before him. She pushed herself up slightly, her beautiful face racked in pain, but her eyes had returned to their natural colour; stormy-blue in the morning light. His gaze tracked down to find a crossbow bolt embedded in her shoulder, red blood blossoming out on her nightgown._

_Nesta had been shot._

_The witch gasped, her tantrum quickly forgotten in the midst of the terrible new development. She stared at Nesta, mouth gaping in shock, before looking towards the new figure emerging from the forest. Eris followed her gaze and found Bayly stalking into the field, crossbow held up at ready, and he had the horrifying realization that the young guard’s aim was locked on the female at his feet._

_“No! Stand down!” Eris ordered as he dropped to his knees, throwing a protective hand over Nesta in a bid to shield her from the advancing sentry._

_Nesta was oblivious to the unfolding drama, lost within a fog of pain. Her chest heaved as took in a shuddering breath, sweat lining her forehead as pain undoubtedly racked her already weakened body. Her unseeing eyes fluttered close._

_The witch, meanwhile, had snapped out of her stupor. Her hands clenched into fists at her_ _side and she turned due west, facing the forest._

 _“Estefania!” She shrieked, calling out for backup._ _“Estefania! “Estefania!”_

_“Shit” Eris swore vehemently, dropping his attention back to Nesta._

_His fingers probed her neck and he was relieved to find her pulse beating strong and steady. She'd succumbed to shock, then, Eris concluded. Not great, but hopefully Nesta was now numb to the pain inflicted upon her._

_The little witch, meanwhile, was ceaseless in her screeching. He looked over his shoulder and found the girl’s back turned. The witch’s attention focused solely on the forest as she screamed for reinforcement._

_Eris twisted to face the screaming creature. He gathered his powers, the flames crackling wildly, then flung it all the witch with all his might. The creature was quickly engulfed in a blazing inferno, and he sharpened his magic to envelop her completely. The witch began to screech unintelligibly as the flames licked every inch of her skin, scorching hair and skin and bone._

_And then the witch jerked back, slamming into the Inn wall before ultimately falling silent. Eris flicked his wrist, extinguishing the flames. An arrow was lodged in her torso, pinning the witch to the inn. Blackened smoke steadily rose from her charred flesh. The girl was limp, motionlessness. Most certainly dead._

_He turned his attention back to Nesta, when a shadow fell over the pair. Eris looked up to find Bayly looming over them, his crossbow pointed harmlessly towards the ground._

_“Shit.” The young sentry exclaimed, a horrified expression staining his face. “I didn’t know she was friendly. I thought she was attacking you, like the female on the porch.”_

_Eris ignored the guard, concentrating on the wounded female before him. He gently lifted her from the ground, mindful of her broken arm._

_“Can you hear me, Nesta? Can you open your eyes for me?” Eris cajoled._

_Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, before blinking open in the soft morning light. Her eyes lifted to meet him._

_“It hurts.” She whispered through clenched teeth, her skin an unnatural pallid colour._

_“Not for long, I vow it.” He assured her, before turning his attention towards Bayly. “Is my father still back beyond the treeline?”_

_Bayly nodded his head in confirmation. The young guardsman looked a little green as he took in Nesta’s battered condition._

_“I thought she was strangling you.” He confessed, voice thick with regret. “I waited until she was in the clear before taking my shot. I couldn’t risk hitting you, but I swore I thought she had attacked you.”_

_“Save it for later. We need to find my father and get the hell out of here.”_

_He began striding back towards the treeline. The quicker Eris was free of this hellhole, the better. Bayly took rear position, crossbow trained on the outlying forest as they retreated. There would be time to retrieve their dead later. Nesta needed a healer and Eris had no interest in facing any more witches._

_They were no less than fifty feet from the treeline when his vision sharpened, and Eris began to differentiate shapes that were previously concealed in the mist. Trees that were once hidden away were becoming discernible. He didn’t know what to make of this, so he turned to address Bayly and saw that the mist was receding from the field at a startling pace._

_“My lord!” Bayly warned sharply. “The mist!”_

_“I see it.” Eris acknowledged but there wasn’t time to say anything else, because a new figure had emerged from the forest._

_The female walked out from the western treeline, about four hundred yards away. He could not make out any finer details from this distance, other than long dark hair and fair skin. The female was clad in a light coloured tunic and trousers._

_And she was heading directly towards them._

_“Bayly, take Nesta.” He ordered. “Bring her to Beron.”_

_The younger guardsman took Nesta without hesitation, taking care to avoid the crossbow bolt and broken arm. She still cried out during the hand-off, and Bayly winced in sympathy._

_“What about you?” The younger male asked once Nesta was secure in his arms._

_“I will hold her off for as long as possible. Just worry about Nesta. I can take care of myself.”_

_Bayly gave Eris a curt nod and then immediately fled for the treeline. Eris took a protective step in front of the departing duo, eyes locked on the approaching female. He tensed as she slowly made her way towards him, barely pausing to glance at the smouldering remains of her accomplice. She walked slowly, unbothered. As if she had all the time in the world. Her casual pace suited Eris perfectly; every second wasted awarded Nesta a better chance of escape._

_The female -_ the women - _finally stopped, giving Eris a lingering perusal._

_“You’re faerie.” She surmised in an accent that Eris couldn’t quite place._

_“I am.” He confirmed snidely, arching a brow. “_ You _are in fae territory, after all.”_

_The woman tilted her head, gaze fixed on his riding clothes. He was not garbed in his usual habiliment - court apparel wasn’t suitable for patrols - but his garments were made of a finer quality that alluded to his higher station. The woman seemed to be in the midst of working that out for herself._

_“These are my family lands.” Eris informed her coldly, then jerked his head towards Kalan's body. “_ Those _are my people, and you have no business being here.”_

_The woman's gaze flew up to meet his._

_“Then please accept my apologies, my prince.” She offered without a hint of sarcasm. Her ink-black brow raised a fraction of an inch. “_ Are _you a prince? I’m not terribly familiar with faerie customs.”_

_“My father is the High Lord of Autumn.” He informed her, eyes narrowing. “Why are you here, mortal girl?”_

_“I am here by my master’s bidding, little lordling.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You have something that belongs to us. I will retrieve it, and be on our way.”_

_“If you are referring to Nesta Archeron, I am afraid she is long gone.” Eris bluffed, hoping against hope that Bayly had found Beron by now._

_The girl’s smile was predatory. “Nesta Archeron is a member of the Night Court, not the Autumn Court. Why would you involve yourself in their affairs?”_

_Eris gave her a thin smile in return. “It seems you’re more than a little familiar with fae customs, after all.”_

_Her smile dropped completely. The time for pleasantries was over._

_“I’m familiar enough with killing you faerie fuckers.” She hissed, widening her stance in preparation of attack._

_But Eris had learned his lessons with the younger girl; knew better than to allow a witch the opportunity to take the offensive. He struck out with his magic, throwing all of his power into the blast. The woman was engulfed in an inferno, the flames swirling around her like a whirlwind. Eris clenched his fist, trying to compress the fire and condense the heat. Trying to burn the witch until there was nothing left but ashes._

_But, inexplicably, the flames pushed themselves outwards. The fiery cyclone was expanding instead of retracting. He could see the witch through the spinning wall of fire; her arms thrust out at her side, fingers spread wide as she held back the fire. She was untouched by the flames, her wicked face was deep in concentration as she used her own unnatural magic to push the flames away._

_Eris redoubled his effort, physically leaning forward as he pushed with all his might, trying to overpower the witch’s defences and crush her in the wall of flames. The witch held fast, her magic blocking Eris’, and they were at a standstill._

_He gritted his teeth, sweating profusely as he harnessed every ounce of power available to throw into the attack. The flames shot upwards into the morning sky, bolstered by his magic, but made no headway in his struggle to reach the witch._

_And then, behind the swirling wall of flames, the witch lifted her face and opened her eyes, locking gaze with Eris. The tension seemed to leave her, the harsh lines on her face smoothing out as she visibly relaxed. She smiled at Eris then, softly, gently. The witch raised her hands high above her head, and the fire pulled closer in response. And Eris had the horrifying realization that he was no longer in control of the swirling mass of flames. The magic was firmly under her control._

_The witch smiled at him, a look of genuine joy on her ageless face, before she slammed her arms back out to her side. The magic reacted instantly; the fire exploded away from the witch, expanding outwards in a final blast of magic. The incoming rush of air knocked Eris on his ass. He barely managed to shield himself when the flames swam over him, burning bright and hot, before the magic extinguished itself and the flames petered out._

_He propped himself up, mouth dropping open as he locked eyes with the witch. She was unsinged, showing absolutely no ill effects from Eris’ attack._

_“Well, well, well, little lordling. Is that all you’ve got?” Asked the witch in a bored tone of voice._

_And Eris finally understood how these creatures were able to easily overcome the venerated guards of Autumn. The depth of her powers was unimaginable. He could not take this woman on, not alone. Maybe not even with the entire group of sentries. He was not too proud to recognize defeat. There would be no victory this day._

_So Eris winnowed away, back inside the treeline._

_Back to Beron and away from the witch._

  
  


_~_

  
  
  


_The mist had all but disappeared as Eris rushed through the forest in a frenetic attempt to reach the waiting group. The witch would have a general idea of Eris’ destination, she saw the direction Bayly fled, so it was imperative that he make haste. He didn’t think that witches had the ability to winnow, but his knowledge of their abilities was limited and he did not want to take any chances._

_He had a much easier time travelling through the forest now that the fog had lifted, and he found the sentiries waiting for him. The three guardsmen, Bayly included, straightened upon his arrival. Beron and Nesta were nowhere to be seen._

_“Where is my father?” Eris demanded without preamble._

_“His Lordship has returned to Forest House.” The bearded one replied._

_“He winnowed Lady Nesta away,” added Bayly, “and said that you needed to return home immediately.”_

_Eris gave a curt nod at Bayly’s instruction. He’d expected no less, but it did nothing to quell the sinking feeling in his stomach. The sooner he returned to Forest House the better, but first he needed to see the guardsmen away._

_“Where is Emmet?” Ask the third guardsman, worry lining his face._

_“Dead.” Eris answered without hesitation, causing the three males to flinch. Now was not the time for empathy, not when he needed to evacuate the sentries. So he hardened his expression and pushed on. “We need to make haste. The witch responsible is not far. We must withdraw before she brings back that cursed fog to trap us.”_

That _was the inspiration needed to light a fire under their ass. The males dropped any further questions and allowed Eris to winnow them back to camp. The remaining sentries had already packed up the camp and saddled the horses. Everyone was ready to go. It took a few minutes to sort out who would lead out the extra horses - they were now down by four males, after all - and soon the group was off and away. Eris watched them go until they disappeared into the background of the forest. The mist had not returned. The witch had not sought them out._

_Eris was reasonably sure that his males would make it out without further provocation from the mortal witches. He would feel more comfortable riding out among the senties to ensure their safety, but the High Lord had requested his immediate attention and would accept no extended delays._

_The Lady Nesta, encumbered with extensive injuries, was also at Forest House. Eris had an obligation to see to her recovery, especially considering that he was responsible for her broken limb. Shame ate at him when he recalled the way her arm bent unnaturally at her side. Eris had to break her arm to loosen her hold, but that knowledge didn’t ease the burden of his guilt. He would find a way to make it up to her._

_The first step would be to hurry home and offer his support. The High Lord of Autumn could be an intimidating figure at the best of times, and the lady was already at a disadvantage due to her injuries. Beron Vanserra was a scheming bastard - Eris knew of his father’s plans to lure Nesta Archeron into Autumn Court servitude. Beron was practically salivating when he explained that Lady Nesta was discovered on Autumn grounds. She had sought out a single room at an inexpensive inn, suggesting that she was alone with limited financial means. Nesta had registered under a false name but the Innkeeper’s brother, having served in the war against Hybern, recognized her immediately._

_The High Lord didn’t know why Nesta broke away from the Night Court, but Beron wanted to strike before news of her faltering allegiance spread throughout Prythina. She was incredibly powerful as a newly-made fae, and with proper training Nesta’s power could be unequal. If Rhysand was foolish enough to let her slip through the Night Court’s fingers, then Beron wanted to take advantage of the situation and entice her into a position within the Autumn Court._

_He’d assumed Beron would attempt to win her loyalty through bribery and blandishment, but that was before Eris was fully aware of the depths of the lady’s circumstances. Nesta Archeron was weakened, likely abandoned, and definitely vulnerable. Beron would have no issues twisting those facts to his advantage._

_So Eris needed to return to Forest House, apprehensive of the scene awaiting him. Eris had rescued Nesta from captivity with the best of intentions; but he’d only given thought to her immediate safety, knowing that Beron would usher her away from the witch. But now? Now that she was safely away from the witch’s clutches? Who, exactly, would protect her from Beron?_

_And Eris left for Forest House with the dawning realization that perhaps he had rescued Nesta from the frying pan, only to release her directly into the fire._

  
  


_~_

  
  
_Eris winnowed directly into the throne room, knowing with utmost certainty that he’d find courtiers lingering within the immense hall. He had little time or patience for snivelling flatteriers, but courtiers could be counted on knowing the movements of their Lady and High Lord throughout Forest House._

_Someone here will know where to find Beron._

_A pretty fae took a startled step back when Eris winnowed before her. Female courtiers had a tendency to pour on the charm on the rare occasion Eris was forced to attend Court. Many a Lady had set their mind to marrying a High Lord’s son, and plenty of females believed that warming his bed was the first step towards achieving their goal. They would flutter their lashes and flirt with nary a thought in their pretty little head, and Eris enjoyed that particular type of courtiers the least._

_However this female either did not have marriage on her mind or, more likely, his bruised and dishevelled condition had thrown her off her game. She gasped as she took in his bedraggled state._

_“Have you seen my father?” He asked without prelude._

_“No… no, my Lord.” She stuttered, before giving her head a small shake. “But Lady Nayirah was called away to their personal chambers. I believe the High Lord had requested her presence.”_

_“Thank you, my Lady.” He replied with a sharp bow._

_The courtier giggled, ducking her head behind a fluttering fan, and Eris had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. He winnowed away from the throne room, wanting to make his escape before any further courtier had the presence of mind to stop him with lacklustre attempts at seduction._

_He ended up in front of the door to Beron’s private chambers. The doors were shut and defended by two of the High Lord’s personal guards - standard practise when the High Lord was in residence. He didn’t spare the males a glance as he pounded on the doors, demanding entry. Eris paused for a minute, listening for verbal permission to enter or the sound of approaching footsteps._

_But instead he overheard the sounds of feminine crying. Eris froze, eyes widening as he strained his ears to listen. He did not have to wait long; a brief heartbeat passed when the stilted cry of a female carried through the door. Waiting no longer, Eris threw the doors open and rushed into the room._

_Nesta Archeron lay draped across his parent’s marital bed, bleeding all over his mother’s silkworm sheets. Lady Nayirah was perched upon the edge of the bed, with Nesta’s head resting upon her lap. His mother smoothed down Nesta’s hair with one hand, and held the lady’s shaking hand with the other. Frantic russet-coloured eyes rose up to meet Eris’ as he stormed into the room._

_“What is this?” He demanded, horrified._

_He’d expected to find Nesta under the care of the healers, blissfully unconscious as they tended to her injuries. He did_ not _expect to find her bleeding all over his mother’s lap._

_“Your father…” Nayirah began, before trailing off as she glanced at the open doorway. One of the guards was peeking inside, watching the drama unfold. His mother frowned, then used her magic to shut the doors with a wave of her hand. She began again, albeit in a quieter voice. “Your father left this young lady under my care, and winnowed away without another word.”_

_“Why is she with you and not a healer?” Eris asked as his eyes fixated on the crossbow bolt protruding out of her shoulder._

_Nesta did not look well; she was even paler than earlier, her clammy skin covered under a thick layer of sweat. She was shivering slightly, eyes clenched tight in pain._

_“That is one of the many questions that have been circling through my head. This is Nesta Archeron, is it not? What is the sister of the High Lady of Night doing bleeding on my sheets? What foolishness is this?”_

_A muscle in Eris’ jaw twitched. He did not like this, not one little bit._

_“Eris, what did you father drag us into?” Lady Nayirah demanded sharply._

_He did not know how to respond - he didn’t understand his father’s ploy, either. Eris had growing suspicions but did not dare to voice them, less his own words somehow manifest his newfound fears until reality. He was saved from answering by Nesta herself as she stirred on his mother’s lap. Blue-grey eyes blinked open in confusion._

_“Eris?” She muttered softly, almost to herself. She lifted her eyes to meet his and recognition crossed her face. “Eris Vanserra? Of the Autumn Court?”_

_The scent of fear began to pour off the wounded female, and Eris had the impression that she would have recoiled if she possessed the strength and energy._

_“That I am.” Eris confirmed bluntly._

_The lady made a small sound of distress as she closed her eyes, twisting her devastatingly lovely face away from him. His lady mother made a shushing sound as she stroked a calming hand across Nesta’s brow, attempting to calm the panicking female._

_“Hush, little one.” She soothed. “No one here wishes you harm.”_

_Nesta let out a feeble sob as she tried to curl into herself. If Eris was being honest with himself, he would admit that Nesta’s reaction hurt him more than it should have, but was saved from further self-reflection as the doors to the bedchamber swung open. Beron strutted into the room, followed closely by a handful of servants. Three of them were dressed in healers livery and the fourth wore a soft white robe, denoting her as an acolyte of the High Priestesses._

_“Son, you’re back.” Beron announced cheerfully as he ushered the retinue inside. “Perfect timing.”_

_Eris’ eyes flicked over to meet his mother. Unease was apparent on her face, and he was fairly certain he wore a similar expression on his own face._

_“I thought you would have taken Lady Nesta immediately to the healers.” Eris began hesitatingly, afraid to provoke the High Lord while trying to advocate for the wounded lady._

_“Yes, yes. I’ve brought them along.” He muttered, before gesturing to the female in question. “Will someone dull her pain a little? But take care, I need her alert.”_

Dull her pain… a little? _Eris’ skin chilled at his father’s words, his stomach twisting as he contemplated different scenarios that required Nesta’s immediate attention before healing, and none of them were good._

_His mother must have had the same train of thought as Nayirah tried to intervene on Nesta’s behalf._

_“Beron, surely all of this can wait? She must be in incredible pain, and I fear the Night Court’s reaction if they were to learn that she suffered unduly while under our care.” His mother protested as she placed a protective arm on Nesta._

_Beron’s face turned cold, tension radiating off of his body as he turned his icy gaze upon his wife._

_“Do not insert yourself in matters that do not concern you, Nayirah. You are here to manage that female and that is all. If you cannot complete that simple task then you have no reason to be here.” Beron barked._

_Nayirah’s lips compressed into a thin line, but she offered no rebuttal._

_Two of the healers placed their hands on Nesta as they closed their eyes in concentration, using their magic to draw away her pain. It worked relatively fast, for less than a minute had passed before the tension had eased from her face. Blue-grey eyes blinked open, much clearer than they had been just a few moments prior._

_“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She said, voice full of wonder. Nesta tried to push herself into a sitting position with her good arm._

_Berson stalked over towards the females, looking down on Nesta with a self-satisfied grin._

_“You are in a lot of trouble, girl.” The Autumn High Lord told her, eyes glittering with gratification. “You are friendless, defenceless. Hiding out among the middling villages that dot my borders and without the protection of your family. Do they know where to find you? Do they even know that you are here?”_

_“You leave my family out of this.” Nesta hissed, but Eris could hear the waiver of fear in her voice._

_As could Beron, judging by his oily smile._

_“Yes, I thought as much. It’s no coincidence that you were found_ here, _in the one court that your people would not enter to look for you, was it?” He clicked his tongue as he perched on the edge of the bed, a handbreadth away from the lady._

_Nesta recoiled into Nayirah, but kept her eyes locked on the male before her._

_“Now, now. No need to get defensive. I have no interest in the details of your family drama. The business that brought you here is yours, and yours alone. No, I’m here to make you an offer for something better.”_

_“An offer?” She repeated, her brows furrowed in confusion. Beron’s smile only widened._

_“An offer.” He confirmed with a benevolent nod of his head. “I’m here to offer you a position within my court. Something has driven you away from the Night Court, that much is clear. We would welcome you to our court with open arms.”_

_Her throat bobbed as she studied his father’s face, and Eris was suddenly stuck with a compulsion to warn her. Tell her not to trust the old prick. To run away. Something._ Anything. 

_Beron did not have her best interests at heart. He had_ nobody's _best interest at heart. People were things to be used and abused, twisted around until every last ounce of usefulness was wrung from them, before tossing them away without another thought. It didn’t matter if they were friends of family. Beron would take and take and take and take until there was absolutely nothing left._

_But, what purpose would warning her serve? She was weakened, barely able to stand. The healer’s sedative magic would wear off quickly, leaving her just as vulnerable as before. Nesta would not escape on her own, and he would not risk his own neck to help her. His position would not save him, just as it had not saved Lucian all those years ago._

_So Eris Vanserra kept his mouth shut and watched the situation unfold._

_“I think,” She began slowly, voice little more than a whisper, “that I am not suited for life at court.”_

That’s a lie, _Eris thought. He’d seen her passionate speech at the War Concile, knew how she expertly brought people over to her cause. Perhaps she was only attempting to delay Beron but Eris instinctively knew she would thrive in politics._

_Beron’s smile dropped a fraction of an inch, his voice cooling by several degrees. “Should I send you back your sister, then?”_

_Blue-grey eyes blinked once, and the lady’s plush lips twisted into a frown._

_“I have no wish to return to my sister’s court.” She admitted._

_Beron leaned back, placed his hands in his lap and returned to his performance of a nonthreatening old male._

_“Then why not accept a position within Autumn? It's a scary world out there. You are young and unfamiliar in the ways of the fae. How far did you make it on your own, before something dark and powerful snared you in its web? And what would have happened if we did not come to your rescue?_

_“We can be the best of friends, my Lady. I won’t try to entice you with material temptations. You’re a bright female and long for something more than a life of wealth and comfort, although you would find both those things in Autumn._

_“You would find safety here, Lady Nesta. You will find your home. All the things a young female could want. So what do you say?”_

_Eris could see the hesitation in Nesta’s eyes, could see the misgiving lurking behind the hollow planes of her face._

Don’t trust Beron, _Eris screamed at her internally._ Don’t trust him. 

_But Nesta gave Beron the slightest of nods. “Okay, what do I need to do?”_

_His father’s smile widened even further, revealing sharp canines. A predator preparing to leap upon it’s wounded prey._

_“Vow your unceasing and unquestioning fealty to the Autumn Court, and promise to obey any and all demands from it’s High Lord.” He told her, eyes glinting with anticipation. “Swear it, Lady. Swear it to me, and it will be done.”_

_Nesta leaned back, slack jawed at Beron’s request. Nayirah’s panicked eyes met his own, but there was nothing either of them could do._

_“Unceasing fealty? You expect this arrangement to last forever?” Nesta asked, finally seeing the trap. “You’re mad if you expect me to agree to those terms.”_

_Berson leaned forward maliciously, dropping the act of the kindly old man completely. “What other options do you have? My people were slaughtered in your defence. You owe it to them, to us!”_

_Beron didn’t give a fig about the dead guards, probably didn’t spare them a thought after he winnowed away. He wanted the power that ran through Nesta Archeron’s veins, desired complete control over the cauldron-made female._

_“I can’t promise never ending support. I…. I can test it out for a few months? See if it’s a good fit for me here?” She tried._

_Beron hissed as he grabbed the crossbow bolt to give it a vicious twist, causing Nesta to scream in pain. The female was essentially wedged between his parents, unable to escape. His father’s face was wrapped in delight as he yanked on the bolt, his wrinkled hands staining red with her blood._

_Nobody moved to interfere. None dared; not the guards, not the servants. Everyone simply watched as Beron demonstrated just how far he was willing to go to bring his subjects to heel. The room was filled with the sound of Nesta’s tormented cries._

_“Swear it to me, girl. Swear it!” He screamed in her face, pushing the bolt further into her reddened, weeping shoulder._

_“Stop it! Please stop it!” She pleaded. “It's too much. I can’t take it.”_

_“Then pledge your loyalty Nesta Archeron.” He repeated. His voice was hard as his heart as he carefully enunciated each word. “Renounce your loyalty to the Night Court and it’s people. Vow your unceasing and unquestioning fealty to the Autumn Court. Promise to obey any and all demands from your new High Lord, and this will all be over.”_

_Tears trailed down Nesta’s face as she gasped for breath. Terrified eyes darted around the room as she searched for salvation. It was all for naught, no one here would help her._

_“Yes.” She broke, voice thick with misery. “Yes. I will do anything.”_

_Triumph shone on his face, and he gave the bolt a final twist._

_“Swear it!” Beron ordered._

_“I swear it. I sweat it all.” She screamed, collapsing the second she was released._

_The air was thick with heady scent of magic, as the bargain between the Nesta and the Autumn Court was solidified in magic. Beron’s newest servant lay gasping in his mother’s arms. Nayirah stared down at her with a pitying expression._

_Nesta Archeron wholly belonged to the Autumn Court now, and there was nothing Eris could do about it._

_Beron rose from the bed, pulling a handkerchief out of his suit pocket to wipe the blood off his hand. He then glanced over at the servants and gestured to Nesta with a quick jerk of his head. Relief began to ease the crushing tightness in Eris’ chest. The worst of it was over; the healers could set to work on Nesta, and Eris could set to work forgetting the day’s events at the bottom of a bottle._

_I’ll help her once she’s healed, Eris promised himself,_ I’ll teach her the finer nuances required to survive the Autumn Court. _He could shield her from the worst of it, and help her through the rest. It was an inauspicious start to friendship, but the lady needed someone to look out for her. He owed her that._

_Except… it wasn’t the healers that strode over to retrieve Nesta. No, it was the acolyte who walked over to stand beside the High Lord of Autumn. Confusion flooded through Eris._

_“Well, son.” Beron drawled, finally turning to address him. “I think it’s a fine day for a wedding. Don’t you agree?”_

_Horror flashed throughout Eris, the emotion surely apparent on his face. Beron merely laughed at Eris’ expression, uncharacteristically jovial due to his latest windfall._

_“Come, son. Come! The sooner we make you a bridegroom, the sooner we can fix up your bride.” Beron cheerfully announced._

_Bile rose in Eris’ throat, but he forced it back down. He didn’t move to his father’s side - could only stare blankly in numb apprehension. His father’s wide smile dropped a fraction of an inch._

_“You will marry the female now, Eris. This is not a request! You have been single for too long. Think of this as a boon. I’m offering you the hand of a cauldron-born female.” Beron raved, his eyes wild with greed. “Think of the resulting children, Son. You saw what she did to Hybern. You_ know _the magic she possesses. Any offspring from this union would be unstoppable powerhouses. Think of the glory they will bring to Autumn.”_

_Eris’ eyes fell to the limp female on the bed. Nesta’s eyes were squeezed shut, face racked in pain. He didn’t know if she was stuck senseless from the bargaining magic, or if she was still reeling from Beron’s onslaught, but Nesta Archeron failed to react to Beron’s words._

_Beron glanced at the fallen female and sighed._

_“I can see your hesitation, boy, but don’t let your fears prevent you from accepting the gift I am offering. A marriage need not be a catalyst for great change. Hell, you’re free to keep fucking all the little barmaids that your heart desires. I don’t care. Just be sure to get a child on this one here, that’s all I ask.”_

_His mother made a strangled sound, and Beron sent her a warning glare before turning to look at him expectedly. Eris felt his feet moving, but it was like he was disconnected from his own body. He couldn’t believe this was happening. If he struggled to accept the reality of the situation then what did Nesta feel?_

_Eris’ eyes slipped back to his parent’s marriage bed, and long-buried memories came crashing back. He was still a child, back then, when his first engagement ended in disaster. He could almost picture Morrigan now, her naked body curled up in pain from the nails hammered into her womb. He remembered her dirty, tear streaked face. Knew what she did to avoid the marriage. She would have known the consequences of resisting the match, yet she did it anyway._

_The truth of the matter was Morrigan would rather die than live as his bride._

_At first he’d been angry and insulted, had acted out like a foolish little fucker. But as he grew, he was able to look past his own foolish pride and began to truly understand everything her actions had cost her._

_In his long, personal history of all the terrible things he had condoned to survive this lot in life, that was his biggest regret. Eris tried to convince himself that inexperienced was to be blamed. He was an older male. A better male. Eris would never make that mistake again._

_But if that was the case, why was he standing at his father’s side, dimly repeating the marriage vows uttered by the acolyte? Nesta lay half-delirious upon his mother’s lap, wracked with pain and barely aware of her nuptials. She would repeat her own vows after gentle prodding from his mother. Nayirah’s face was a neutral mask - she knew better than to express disapproval with the High Lord - but her sweet eyes were lined with silver, betraying the torment she felt for her son’s circumstances._

_The High Lord chuckled when Nesta stumbled a little over a particular long verse where she promised to act the obedient wife._

_“Don’t worry, Son. She won’t buck your reins too ferociously. Your wife won’t put up too much of a struggle. I have her vow of servitude, after all.” Beron laughed, giving Eris a friendly nudge._

_The High Lord laughed - laughed! As if this was a happy occasion. As if the bride wasn’t lying in a pool of her own blood, and the groom didn’t wear the marks of an attack that left good males dead._

_His eyes fell back on his soon-to-be wife, and found her staring back at him. The acolyte’s words drifted away as he stared into the teary eyes of his intended, and Eris wanted to fall to his knees in shame._

_She was a prisoner here, of that there was no doubt, and Eris could already see their future playing out before him. She was doomed to repeat the torment experienced by his own mother - little more than a broodmare for the whims of an evil High Lord. Her vow to Beron had tightened the noose around her neck and, in his cowardice, Eris sat back and let it all happen._

_Eris didn’t know why Nesta Archeron hid from the Night Court, but he knew with certainty that her fate had taken a dramatic turn for the worse the minute she stepped onto Autumn Lands._

_She was damned. He’d promise himself that he would protect this female, then sit back and did nothing the minute the High Lord put hands on her. Eris was a coward. And his cowardice had damned his wife._

_His wife. The very same female who recoiled in fear after hearing his name._

_A sudden flurry of activity pulled Eris’ attention away from Nesta, and was shocked to realize that the ceremony was complete. The acolyte took a respectful step back as the healers stepped forward - the completion of the wedding was apparently their cue to attend his weakened wife. After a few minutes of careful ministration, they had placed her on a stretcher and carried her away._

_Eris watched her go. His new wife was a stunning, captivating creature. And she deserved so much better than the fate she was given. She deserved so much better than being shackled to Eris in a life of servitude._

_And then he felt an unfamiliar resolve begin to take over. A voice - an impulse began to call out. It had been fluttering in the back of his mind for some time now, but he’d managed to ignore it. Told himself it wasn’t the right time, giving himself an excuse to delay that impossible act._

_But after recent events that pressing voice began grew louder, asserting itself, demanding attention. Was that voice fueled by his consciousness? By his shame? Eris did not know, but he could no longer ignore it._

Beron’s rule must end today, _that little voice whispered,_ Beron’s cruelty has run unchecked for too long. You knew this was inevitable. You know that you must stop him. You’ve schemed and plotted, but the time has come. You must stop Beron’s savagery. If not for yourself, then for your wife. Beron must be stopped. 

_Eris stood a little straighter and, just like that, a decision had been made. He’d come to terms with the Night Court to help commit the act of patricide. The irony that he must reject that specific court was not lost on him._ _Eris did not know why Nesta ran from the Night Court, but he understood that he could not draw them into this entanglement. Not until he sat Nesta down to learn the reason for her flight. He would simply ignore the Night Court’s very existence until Nesta agreed to face them._

_And so, Eris must now dispatch his father without any outside assistance._

_The male in question walked up to Eris, wearing a rare look of fatherly pride and completely ignorant to the plans forming in his son’s mind._

_“You’re a married male now, son. Congratulations. She’ll be a pleasure to breed, of that I have no doubt. The healers are working quickly. I’m sure she’ll be warming your bed before the week is out.” He said with a wink, and it took everything in Eris not to react to the vile words, but Beron carried on regardless. “I have a box of cigars stashed away in the closet. Let’s have a little celebration, shall we?”_

_And Beron walked off without a backwards glance, disappearing into his large dressing room. Eris watched him go, his hand fluttering down to the dagger still sheathed at his side. A sudden movement drew his eyes, and he spun around to face his mother. Nayirah had been watching him closely - too closely - and her cleaver eyes missed nothing. She saw the calculating look on Eris’ face, saw how he reached for his dagger._

_And Eris had the gut-wrenching revelation that his mother was aware of his plans for patricide._

_She was a smart female, possessing the ability to read him ever since he was a little boy. So his mother knew of Eris’ intentions, as clear as day. Fear stabbed at Eris’ chest for - while he had no issue removing his tyrant of a father - he would take no such action if Nayirah stood in the way. He couldn’t do that. Not even for Nesta._

_But then a strange look flashed into his mother’s eyes. A look of understanding. She tilted her head down a fraction of an inch, so subtle that it was easy to miss, but it was a nod of approval._

_And then she smoothed out her expression and plastered a smile upon her face. For whom? He wasn’t sure. The acolyte left once the ceremony was complete, then healers not long after. Just the family members remained in the room._

_But then Nayirah Vanserra flicked her wrist, sending her magic to open the doors of her chambers._

_“Guards, oh guards.” She called out in a deceptively light voice. “The both of you must come with me immediately. I fear for the safety of my new daughter-in-law, and you’ll be put to better use guarding this sweet girl.”_

_She tossed Eris a final look over her shoulder as she slipped out of the room, taking the guards away and leaving Eris alone with his father. His father; the male who tormented his own flesh and blood in his quest for power. The male whose actions today had forced that cycle to begin anew._

_But no - the time for the tyrant’s rule has come to an end. Eris would stop the cycle of abuse on this day, and would not submit Nesta to the same torment that had beaten down his own mother._

_Eris was many things, but he knew wasn’t a good male. His history was too convoluted and twisted to label him as anything other than a villain to the people of Prythian._

_But maybe this was the day where he took his first step in changing his story. He would be a villain to many, but - maybe today - he could be a hero to one. At the end of the day, maybe that would be enough._

_So Eris Vanserra withdrew his dagger and walked into the dressing room, preparing to end the life of his unsuspecting father._

_And that was that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that I needed to split chapter 10 after all - this was the largest one yet, and I'm working to ensure both parts are posted before February 16. 
> 
> I've been running on little sleep this week, and I didn't have time to send this to my beta, so I apologise for any errors riddling this chapter. 
> 
> As always, I thrive on your comments. I will mean so much to me if you take the time to drop a comment and let me know what you think about this chapter.


	11. The Dinner Party - Part 1

~~~~~~

**Cassian**

  
  
  
  


_His very own personal fucking hellhole_

_The Autumn Court_

  
  
  


Cassian woke up wanting to die.

It felt like someone had taken an axe to his head; the sharp, pulsing pain was so acute that it sent him collapsing back into bed the moment he tried to rise. Nausea quickly accompanied the ache, rolling through his body the second his head hit the mattress. It took every scrap of self-control to not vomit all over himself, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d conquer that particular battle yet. The acidic contents of his stomach still sloshed around, threatening to spew out of him like a bolt from the blue. 

He rolled onto his side, dragging the pillow over his head in a pathetic attempt to block out the sunlight. His mouth was dry. His too-thick tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. _Water._ A sip of water should help. 

Cassian blindly reached out towards the side table, grasping around in search of a glass of water, anything to rinse out his cottonmouth. His hand landed onto an empty bottle of whiskey - the very same bottle that started it all - and a wave of nausea came crashing back. He moaned pathetically, the sound muffled by the pillow and barely audible over the throbbing in his head. 

_I really need to get it together,_ he thought feebly. 

Then made absolutely no effort to move.

He lay there quietly from that point on, lost in thoughts and regrets as whiskey-soaked memories came crashing back. Cassian wasted no time tracking down alcohol the moment he left Nesta’s chambers. His sole intention was to get blackout drunk, and he’d been successful in doing so if the jackhammering in his skull was anything to go by. Cassian remembered draining the first bottle on the walk back to his own room, then opening the second as soon as he stepped inside. The memories began to get blurry from that point on.

Which was fine. Perfectly fucking fine.

He had no desire to dwell over matters that didn’t involve him, and Nesta was now firmly part of that category. He was a fool to even remain in the Autumn Court, really. Probably should have flown home last night. He was tempted - _oh so tempted_ \- to fly off when that ratfuck Eris walked into Nesta’s chambers. The High Lord of Autumn was all too comfortable in the _bedroom_ of his duplicitous mate. 

The only thing keeping his ass in Autumn were the orders of his own High Lord. Rhysand, sensing Cassian’s inner turmoil, strictly forbade him from causing trouble for the duration of their stay. Cassian couldn’t leave the estate without Rhys’ permission. Certainly couldn’t lay a hand on Vanserra, no matter how much the little fuck deserved it. 

Rhysand’s orders had all but neutered Cassian. He was to act the part of a happy little guest, blithely accepting that his _godsdamn mate_ was married to his _godsdamn nemesis._ Like everything was fine. Perfectly. Fucking. Fine. 

The hungover Illyrian shifted on his bed, pulling the pillow away from his face to glare at the wall. Gods, he was tired. Tired of the stress. Tired of chasing Nesta all over Prythian, especially when she had so _obviously_ thrived without him. Tired of piecing his heart back together. 

A High Lord’s wife. His mate - the female for whom he’d waited _centuries_ to meet - was a High Lord’s _wife_ . Cassian would have laughed at the irony if he didn’t feel so godsdamned pathetic. Clearly, the Cauldon hated him. Why else did it link him so thoroughly, so _irrevocably_ to Nesta Archeron? Why did it give him a tantalizing glimpse of their life together, only to snatch it all away? To mock him? A punishment for his crimes committed in previous lives?

Another wave of sickness passed over him, but that one couldn’t be blamed entirely on the alcohol. No, the very idea that Nesta’s heart belonged to Eris was making him miserable, nearly sick. 

Gods, he was a fool for missing the signs pointing out the obvious: _Nesta Archeron was not for him._ He was such a fool that, even now, the little voice in the back of his mind rebelled against the notion that Nesta’s love belonged to another. _You’re missing a piece of the puzzle,_ the little voice whispered. _You’re not seeing the whole picture. You cannot see the forest for the trees,_ the hateful little voice continued on. Weaving its web of lies. Planting little seeds of doubt. 

It was starting to fuck with his head. 

Cassian scrubbed a calloused hand over his face, sighing. Yes, he was a fool and he needed to rein in such thoughts, less he drive himself insane. 

He needed food, he needed water, and he'd find neither of those things holed up in his room. So he pushed himself into a sitting position, gave himself a minute to fight off nausea, then stumbled to his feet. When he was relatively certain that he could walk out of his room without vomiting, Cassian left in search of breakfast. 

  
  


~

  
  


The small dining room, which had been allocated for the Inner Circle’s private use, remained blissfully empty. He hadn’t the temperament to deal with any of those meddling assholes right now. He’d barely saw Elain after they arrived in Autumn. The sisters had all but cloistered themselves away during Nesta’s convalescence. Feyre sought him out to announce Nesta's awakening, and that was his first time seeing her since stepping foot into this hellhole. 

His brothers, however, were a different story. 

Those fuckers had remained constantly underfoot, hadn’t given him an ounce of peace or privacy throughout this whole fucking ordeal. Rhysand declared that Cassian’s expertise was required to help keep the estate secure, but he could see through his High Lord’s words easily enough. It was a ploy designed to keep him busy and out of trouble. Busywork issued under the illusion of importance. Rhysand knew - _knew -_ what Nesta meant to him. Even if Cassian never said the words out loud, Rhys _knew._ But he kept his mouth shut and took up the extra surveillance and protection duty if only to keep occupied.

And Cassian would have been fine if they left it at that. Truly. 

But _no._

His brothers - either worried for his mental stability or fearful of the fallout from his eventual breaking point - made it their mission to ensure that he was never left alone. Not even for a moment. Not even at night. They’d given him one piss poor excuse after the other; terrible, half baked reasons why they needed to remain in his company. It was done out of love, Cassian knew, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow. His pride had all but abandoned him the moment of Eris’ stunning declaration, and Cassian just wanted time to sit back and lick his wounds. 

But they held fast at his side, unwavering no matter how many angry glares or sharp rebukes Cassian sent their way. _Mother’s tits,_ he was surprised that Rhysand even allowed Cassian to sneak off and confront Nesta. There was no doubt that Rhys kept watch the entire time, monitoring the interaction with his daemati powers. Ensuring that Cassian didn’t blow this fledgling alliance straight to hell. 

And he’d been surprised that they’d let him drink himself half to death afterwards. Maybe it was a little reward. A little prize from not strangling Eris Vanserra to death the moment he stepped into her room. _Gods_ , how Cassian wished that little prick gave him a reason to act out. He hated the little lordling from the minute he met him, and he _really_ hated him now. 

He signed again as he swiped a piece of toast on the side table, leftover from the missed breakfast service. He chewed slowly, relieved that dry toast settled his stomach as opposed to setting it off. Cassian downed a glass of water, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down his throat, the quickly finished off two more. 

A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that it was nearing noon. Apparently, he had slept the entire morning away. That was wholly unlike him; even when he threw back considerable amounts of alcohol on special occasions, Cassian always rose with the sun. He supposed that he could forgive himself the minor misstep. After all, the shattering realization that your long-awaited mate had married your worst enemy was as good a reason as any to fuck up your sleep schedule. 

“You smell like a distillery.” The soft voice cut in, pulling Cassian from his wallowing. 

He blinked once, then looked up to find the disapproving visage of Elain Archeron staring back at him. The middle sister was standing in the doorway, her delicate brows furrowed as she glared down at Cassian. 

“If my scent offends you, you’re welcomed to go dine with your _sister._ ” He snapped, putting enough venom on the last word to ensure no confusion over whom he referred to. 

Elain ignored him, sashaying into the room in a swirl of silk skirts. She plucked a few pastries from the side table, depositing her plate on the dining table before going back to pour herself a cup of tea. Elain gingerly dropped into the seat across from Cassian, taking a long sip of her tea and she peered at him over the rim of her mug. 

“Are you quite done feeling sorry for yourself?” She asked without a lick of equivocation. 

He narrowed his eyes at the slight female before him, his wings ruffling in enmity. Cassian had never once given Elain anything other than his utmost respect, but the female was treading a dangerous line right now. 

“I’m in no mood to be trifled with.” He warned her, voice edged in ice. “I would think that little fact would be apparent to a seer, such as yourself.”

Cassian levelled at glare at Elain. While she may think of him as the happy-go-lucky brother that brightened their doorstep with his insouciant manner, Cassian was primarily a highly-trained warrior with centuries of experience under his belt. He was a brutal, efficient killer. The title _Lord of Bloodshed_ was very much earned, and it was about time she remembered that. 

Except Elain merely lifted a brow and cocked her head, meeting his gaze straight on. The expression was reminiscent of something Nesta would shoot him, and something in his chest cracked at the sight. He tightened his grip around his water glass, and Cassian was the first to look away. 

“Where is everyone?” He finally asked after a long moment of silence. He was afraid to ask about Nesta, while equally desperate for any news. 

He was such a fucking idiot. 

“We met for breakfast hours ago,” Elain informed him coolly, disapproval colouring her voice. “Azriel tried to rouse you but gave up after you refused to budge. He thought you’d be in a better mood if we let you sleep it off.”

Her lips compressed into a tight line, her expression letting Cassian know her opinion on _that_ particular matter. 

“Felicitations were in order.” He explained as he raised his waterglass in a mock salute. “I was merely celebrating your sister’s nuptials. Somebody should be toasting to your sister’s health. She's married to that ginger prick, after all.”

Fire flashed through Elain’s eyes at his caustic barb, reminding Cassian that the sisters had been cut from the same cloth. Elain may be the softer, gentler sister but she was still an Archeron through and through. She stiffened her back and she glared him down.

“Do you plan to pass the day away wallowing in self-pity? I thought the reason behind this visit was to strategize against the human Queens?”

“ _I_ thought the purpose of this visit was to nurse your sister back to health. I saw her last night, you know. She’s up and active. Was about to share a lovely dinner with her little lordling, so I don’t think she still requires our services any more.” He bit out, hating how sullen the words came out. Hated how weak and broken he sounded. 

“My sister is still in danger, Cassian.” Elain reminded him, her voice softening slightly. “The threat posed by the Queens still remains. That isn’t going away, no matter how much you ignore it. It will start with Nesta, and it will end with a war against Prythian. You know well as I do that keeping Nesta out of their clutches is the only thing currently preventing a full-blown attack.

“So if you hate my sister, _truly_ hate her, then maybe you should just leave.”

Shame flooded Cassian at Elain’s words, and he dropped his head into a hand. Elain wasn’t the enemy here. _She_ wasn’t the one who played him for a fool. And even if Nesta played fast and loose with his heart, that didn’t mean he was vindictive enough to let her fall prey to the mortal Queens. Especially when untold lives would be lost as a result. So even if Nesta rejected him, Cassian wouldn’t walk away from Nesta in her time of need. 

_Did she truly reject you first?_ That traitorous little voice whispered. _When she was so responsive in your arms? When her eyes sparkled with anticipation when you spoke of a future together?_

Cassian pushed that little voice back down. Pushed it back to a dark corner of his mind and slammed that door shut. _Gods_ , he would be a fool to pay it any heed. He needed to protect his heart, especially since Nesta took joy rippingit from his chest, time and time again. 

He realized belatedly that Elain was studying him, waiting for a response. He lifted his head to meet her all-knowing gaze.

“I’ll stay. Of _course,_ I’ll stay.” He said with conviction. “I may not like Eris Vanserra or anything about this whole situation, but I won’t abandon Nesta. Not now. Not when she needs me.”

Some unrecognizable emotion flashed through Elain’s eyes, too quickly for Cassian to place, but she nodded her head and leaned back in her chair, slightly more relaxed. 

“Lady Nayirah is arranging a feast in our honour, to take place tonight.” She informed him, briskly moving the conversation forward. “Rhys still hasn’t been able to pin Eris down to discuss action against the Queens. So I expect that tonight’s topic of conversation will be more focused on deliberation and strategy, rather than pleasantries.”

Cassian snorted at that as he swiped one of Elain’s untouched pastries. He took a bite, thoughtful. While he may not relish sharing a sit-down dinner with Eris Vanserra, it would be a good occasion to put their heads together and strategize. That was the original reason that he and Helion ventured into the High Lord’s summit, after all. It was important to set up a plan of action against the Queens. If they wanted to get the drop on those mortal bitches, they needed to stop being reactionary and _start_ being proactive. 

And despite his personal feelings on the matter, it would be foolish to discount the resources the Autumn Court offered. An alliance would be unquestioningly beneficial to their cause. He didn’t know how the other High Lord’s felt about protecting Nesta, but Helion’s actions thoroughly demonstrated that they may find it preferable to kill Nesta outright, rather than risk her fall. A united coalition between Night and Autumn would certainly give any detractors a reason to pause. 

Moreover, it would give Cassian something to focus on. A goal to work towards. Something to take his mind off of the absolute disaster that was his relationship with Nesta. Distract him from the knowledge his mate had rejected him in favour of another. Distract him from the fact that she'll be there tonight. That he would be facing her once again with her husband at her side. Nesta and Eris Vanserra. 

_Together._

The thought made the bile rise in his throat. He clamped down hard on that line of thinking. He pushed it down to the outermost reaches of his mind. It could keep company with that little voice in the back of his head - the one that refused to stop calling out for his mate. 

_Gods,_ he was a mess. 

“You should probably wash up before then,” Elain commented flatly. 

Cassian grunted as he shoved the remaining pastry into his mouth, deciding not to dignify that little comment with a response. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” He told her instead. 

She gave him a tight nod, then rose to leave. And Cassian surprised himself by calling out to Elain just as she reached the doorway. 

“Wait!” 

Elain paused at his word; thrown off by either at the heat in his voice or the urgency laced within that single syllable. Her brown eyes were wide as she turned around to face him. Cassian blinked, startled with himself. He promised himself that he wouldn’t do this - wouldn’t throw away the tattered remains of his pride and beg for a scrap of information about Nesta.

His fingers curled around the edge of the table, nearly indenting the wood from the pressure of his grip. His instincts were waging war with his dignity, grappling for dominance. The primal, animalistic part of him that was so thoroughly _fae_ urged him to track down Nesta, to steal her away and refuse to let her go. To keep her safe and sheltered, to protect her from the looming threats. And Elain, sweet Elain, likely knew just exactly where to find her.

But Cassian’s pride knew just how utterly dangerous that sentiment was. One wrong look towards Nesta could bring down the fledgeling alliance between Courts. There was a reason he chose to get blackout drunk rather than issue Eris a challenge for her hand. A whole fucking slew of reasons, if he was being honest, with Nesta’s agency being the leading one. Nesta chose Eris, had chosen Eris over Cassian a long fucking time ago. And even if it didn’t make _sense_ , he had no right to demand the thought process behind her actions. People change, after all. A lot could have happened during the passage of those three years. 

_Right?_

No, it was better to ignore that little voice in the back of his head, whispering things that weren't quite adding up. Reminding him of that gods-damned kiss. Making him doubt the whole fucking marriage. Cassian needed to get a handle on such thoughts. Needed to rein in that voice before it grew too loud before it drowned out every other fucking thing in his head. 

Elain was silent as she watched him wage war within himself, but her eyes were free from pity and for that he was grateful. His composure was hanging from a thread, his fortitude was no more secure than a house of cards. One misplaced look of pity would send it all crashing down. Thankfully, Elain was waiting for him to continue and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Is she happy, at least?” He asked, then winced at his own stupidity. The answer would cut deeply, no matter the response. 

Elain’s throat bobbed as she looked away, considering the question. 

“I think she can learn to be.” Elain answered softly.

And _mother’s tits_ , if that didn’t make everything about ten times worse. He swallowed down the abundance of questions that threatened to bubble out of him. He kept himself seated and silent, less he ask any more stupid fucking questions that he wasn’t ready to hear the answer. He was quiet for so long that Elain finally met his gaze again, and Cassian didn’t think he imagined the look of sadness there. 

“Eris Vanserra is a good male.” She told him. “I know you have your histories, and I’m not trying to excuse his previous actions, but I have seen how he treats my sister and I’ve never once had cause for concern. I do not doubt that he would sacrifice his own life to protect Nesta.”

Cassian swallowed as he took in her words. Digesting them. He felt… not quite relief, but his raging turmoil subsided a little, mollified by Elian’s assurance that Nesta wasn’t completely defenceless. That she had someone watching her back, especially since Cassian could not. 

“I’m glad then,” he told her hoarsely, “I’m glad the male she chose is worthy of her.”

And even if that wasn’t exactly true _now,_ maybe one day - years from now - it could be. But Elain startled at his words, finally turning to face him. Befuddlement coloured her features, her brows furrowing in confusion. Cassian stilled at her movement. Sensing that someone was off, that his words had unknowingly struck a chord with Elain. 

His heart, his foolish heart, began to race as Elain studied him. 

She cocked her head as if seeing him with new eyes. Her gaze was so intense that he almost flinched. Her slender hand drifted out to grasp the door frame as if it was the only thing keeping her anchored in the room.

And when Elain finally spoke, her voice was so low that he could barely hear her. As if she were afraid her very words would escape this room and spread her secrets. 

“Nesta didn’t recognize her surroundings when she awoke in Eris’ bed-chamber. She didn’t even realize she was in the _Autumn Court_. 

“At first I thought she was confused, that her mind was muddled by magic, but as I walked her to her own chambers, it became overwhelmingly clear that Nesta didn’t recognize his room because she’d never had cause to see it.”

Elain meet his eyes then, biting her lower lip as if the action would keep the words from tumbling out. As if she knew she shouldn’t be saying such things but was unable to stop herself. 

And Cassian, fool that he was, felt that dangerous swell of hope begin to churn within his chest. Threatening to overwhelm his pride and mistrust and common-fucking-sense. It was foolish to hope. Foolish to dream. Foolish, foolish, _foolish._

But Cassian had already established that he was a stupid fucking idiot, and so he ignored all of that and pressed on. 

“What are you trying to say, El?” 

“I”m trying to tell you that Eris Vanserra and my sister are not sharing a bed. Not now. Possibly never. Do with that information what you will.” Elain whispered, before vanishing from the room altogether. 

  
  


~~~~~~

**Eris**

  
  
_The City Of Calais_

_The Winter Court_

  
  
As Eris escorted his wife through the tree-lined streets of Calais, he kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, constantly on the lookout for any possible threats. The small city had been relatively safe to visit in the past, but he’d rather be overly cautious than risk further threats to Nesta’s health and safety. She rolled her eyes and called him a mollycoddler but didn’t stop him from fretting over her, and for that he was grateful. 

His wife had taken one too many hits lately, and he wouldn’t - he _couldn’t_ \- risk anything else happening to her. 

Nesta, meanwhile, was all but oblivious to the flow of city dwellers around them. It had started to snow again; the kind of thick, heavily flakes fluttered on a breeze and caught on your lashes, and it captivated her with an almost childlike delight. She had slipped into the receded doorway of a shuttered business, taking a moment to gaze upon the falling snow before stretching out a gloved hand in an attempt to catch a snowflake on a fingertip. 

Eris had simply leaned against the stone facade, content to stand back and watched her. He was well aware of how hard recent events were weighing on Nesta’s mind, and would never deny her any small measure of delight. A smile broke over her face when she managed to catch a flake, and something in his chest tightened in response. 

Her gaze flicked over to meet his, and her cheeks pinkened when Nesta realized he had been watching her play with the snow.

“Should we be on our way?” Nesta asked, brushing off her earlier playfulness and adapting a more serious expression. 

His heart fell at that suggestion. While he always cherished the rare moments they spent together, it was especially treasured now and he was in no hurry to return home. Things had been tense ever since he offered to play host to Nesta’s immediate family. No matter how much he tried to hide away, It seemed like one damned member of the Inner Circle was always underfoot. By design, the Cottage was too small, too intimate, to accommodate a group who were always at each other’s throat. He was thankful Nayirah volunteered to play intermediary. Without her, Eris was convinced things would have devolved to physical violence long before now. 

The breaking point started the previous night when he found that Illyrian Bastard lurking in Nesta’s bed-chambers. Her stunning face had been twisted up with grief, devastated by whatever cruel words that fucker had thrown her way. Nesta refused to discuss the details of what transpired and it had taken everything in him not to hunt the bastard down. 

Eris understood that the Illyrian hated him long before they ever had the occasion to meet. It couldn’t be helped, it was just another byproduct of Beron’s machinations. Eris would forever be the Night Court’s enemy thanks to that accursed betrothal to Morrigan. He’d learned to accept their contempt, but he would be damned if he’d allow them to drag his wife down to that level. 

He’d spent the next hour with Nesta, doing everything to tease and cajole a smile out of her. She had shaken off the worst of her mood by the time he left, but his own disposition took a turn for the worst when he ran into Rhysand on his trek back to his chambers. 

The High Lord of Night spoke of his desire to compare notes on the Mortal Queens, but Eris knew Rhysand well enough to see the stratagem behind the request. Eris’ relation to Nesta suddenly made him a lot more valuable in Rhysand’s eyes - Eris had a wealth of information regarding Nesta’s skills and expertise. Rhysand likely wanted to press Eris for further information. The High Lord of Night was a master of sussing out vital knowledge, but there was no guarantee that Rhysand would share his findings in return. 

So Eris brushed him off, bluntly informing the visiting High Lord that he had neither the time nor the inclination to spend another moment in his presence. Perhaps it wasn’t the most diplomatic of responses, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

Regardless, his lovely-but- _exasperating_ mother had already invited the Night Court elite to dinner the following evening. He muttered a suggestion about discussing Rhysand’s concerns over dinner tomorrow and walked off without a backwards glance. 

The third and final straw happened earlier that morning; after spending most of the night tossing and turning, he’d given up on sleep around dawn and headed downstairs to break his fast. Nesta was a notoriously late sleeper, so he anticipated spending breakfast alone. 

Or, at least, that was his plan until Elain showed up. Eris didn't expect to find Nesta’s relatives in his personal dining room, but since he’d been taking all of his meals in his office, it was possible that they’d been dining there for the entirety of their visitation. 

While he’d only ever had minimal interaction with Elain, she was unquestionably the most welcomed visitor out of the entire lot. They shared a pot of tea and a few enjoyable moments of conversation before the Spymaster appeared, encompassed in a mood that was darker than his shadows. The conversation trailed as soon as the Shadowsinger took his place beside his wife, where he proceeded to glower at Eris for the remainder of the meal. 

Eris did his best to carry on the conversation, privately entertained at the notion that it was irritating the Shadowsinger, but the awkward atmosphere seemed to overwhelm Elain. The conversation was reduced to stilted pleasantries, and eventually, Eris stopped trying. 

His breakfast was ruined. His private sanctuary was lousy with the Night Court elite. He needed to get away from the Cottage, if only for his own sanity. 

Unwilling to spend another minute cooped up, Eris winnowed directly to the entrance to Nesta’s chambers, banging on the door to rouse her from sleep. He informed this sleepy wife that she had fifteen minutes to prepare herself for a training session. 

Would Nayirah become annoyed that her son and daughter-in-law slipped away? Most definitely, but It had become clear that Nesta needed a refresher on hand-to-hand combat. It just _also_ happened to be an acceptable excuse to slip away from the Cottage, and all of the bothersome inhabitants therein. His Lady mother couldn’t rail at Eris for shirking his responsibilities, not if he re-framed it as putting Nest’s well-being first. So training would allow a temporary reprieve from both the Inner Circle and his mother’s machinations. 

He was killing two birds with one stone, and all that. 

Once Nesta was dressed and relatively awake, Eris winnowed them directly into the northern borders of Autumn, fully intent on revisiting their training sessions of yore. Nesta had grumbled and groaned, but Eris remained steadfast and unsympathetic to her protests. She’d been captured or caught unawares _three_ times since he left for Tarquin’s Summit. Clearly, the need to resume training was long overdue.

They worked through an hour’s worth of cardio, running up and down the rolling foothills of Autumn's shared mountain range. They pushed themselves until she was red-faced and gasping for air. He paused for a short break then, as Eris was worried about overextending Nesta after her recent injury. They spread out a blanket and snacked on finger foods that he pilfered from the Cottage’s kitchens. 

The next order of business, Eris decided, was a bit of stealthy manoeuvrings. He was unnerved how easily Nesta was captured in Adriata - twice in the same day. It was a worrisome statistic, especially considering that she’d previously managed to go two years evading capture. 

In the early days of training, both Helion and Eris had coached Nesta on covertly entering High Lord’s residences, where she was instructed to bring back a trophy of their choosing. She had taken to those missions surprisingly well, managing to complete each assignment with only the rare complication. In no time flat, Nesta had been surreptitiously sliding in and out of High Lord’s private homes with ease. Eris had affectionately called Nesta his little cat burglar, and he’d recall the way her cheeks had flushed at the compliment.

But the stakes had risen since those days and, after her recent run-ins with both Tarquin and Helion, Eris didn’t feel comfortable sending her into Prythian unaccompanied. So they did the next best thing: Nesta would infiltrate major cities within both Dawn, Spring and Night, and she would smuggle Eris in with her. 

It was a safer alternative than breaking into some High Lord’s home, but it wasn't without its own challenges, especially when Nesta’s whereabouts were being hotly debated. The Mortal Queen’s ultimatum had put a spotlight on the missing Archeron sister, and Eris was certain that the ruling class were now invested in hunting her down. He wasn’t thrilled with that prospect, especially now that the Summit had broken and the remaining High Lords returned to their home Courts, thereby free to fully commit to their search for Nesta. 

Tarquin had sent Eris a missive earlier that week, coolly informing him that the summit had officially wrapped up ahead of schedule. Apparently Tarquin was less than pleased that three out of six visiting High Lords had disappeared halfway through the summit, without so much as a farewell. 

Eris could admit that they hadn’t made the most gracious exit. Between Helion’s underhanded attack, Nesta’s recovery and the subsequent exposure of their marriage, Eris hadn’t give the High Lord of Dawn a second thought. Clearly they needed to make some kind of conciliatory gesture, but Eris needed to put his own house in order before then. First attempt a reconciliation with the Night Court, then reconcile with Summer. And after that? Determine where the remaining High Lord’s allegiances lie. 

Helion’s whereabouts was still unknown. Eris’ sources indicated that he may have returned to the secured palace within his own capitol city. The Autumn Court spies had been paying close attention to Helion’s every movement, but have yet to hear anything that linked Helion to Nesta. 

Eris wasn’t quite sure what to make of Helion’s silence. It doubted that the High Lord of Day took Eris’ warning to heart. Perhaps Helion wasn’t ready to reveal his connection to Nesta, perhaps he was awaiting Eris’ first move, perhaps he was simply waiting to see who the other High Lords allied themselves with. There was only one thing that Eris could trust about Helion; he would never hand Nesta over to the Mortal Queens. 

Could the same be said about Tamlin, Tarquin, Thesand and Kallias? 

While they may think twice about handing her over to the human Queens, Eris believed they were actively pursuing her. Knew they would not rest until they had Nesta within their control, if only for the fact that Eris would do the exact same thing if he found himself in that situation. 

It was a hunt, and Nesta was their prize. 

So, no. Nesta wasn’t safe. Eris was all too aware of the dangers before her. His instincts were screaming to cloister her away, to keep Nesta hidden from the world. 

But Nesta Archeron wasn’t a caged bird, and he had no right to lock her away. Nesta made her thoughts on the matter clear enough; she’d laughed outright when he casually suggested that she lay low until the Queens were dealt with. His wife would never agree to hide away.

Although there was, theoretically, another option.

Eris was painfully aware that he’d inherited Nesta’s vow of servitude when he’d taken over the mantle of Autumn High Lord. He could, _theoretically_ , order Nesta into hiding. She’d have no choice but to obey. 

But Nesta treasured her freedom above all else. Who was he to take that from her? If he forced Nesta to bend to his will, then Eris would be no better than Beron. Moreso, Eris didn’t think he could live with himself if that happened. He couldn’t keep Nesta away from the thing she loved the most. 

So; even if he was unable to separate Nesta from Prythian, he’d make damn sure that his wife would remain safe when in it. They would work on her training. Again and again and again, until they were both comfortable with her reaction time. He didn’t cherish the idea of sending her back into Prythain, but he could oversee her safety and winnow her away if things got out of hand. 

So the pair spent the next few hours shifting them from Court to Court, exploring the cities right under the nose of their respective High Lords. They wandered through the red-roofed villages in Dawn, exploring the shops that boosted cleaver tinkerings. They lunched in a tavern in Spring, in a village located mere miles away from Tamlin’s manor. And Afterwards? They took a stroll through the streets of Velaris. 

Eris _may_ have taken perverse pleasure meandering through Velaris while Rhysand’s fabled Inner Circle remained sequestered away in Autumn, but he would never admit to such things outright. They visited the renowned artist quarters, where Eris spent a few gold marks on a gift for his mother, now tucked safely away in his waterproof rucksack. 

It was still mid-afternoon by the time Nesta had shifted them through the three Courts, completing Eris’ requisite training for the day. Lady Nayirah’s dinner parties were a late-night affair, customarily lasting until the first light of dawn. Dinner was generally followed by drink and dance, but even Nayirah knew better than to expect such things on this occasion. Nesta announced that she would consider dinner an overwhelming success if they made it through the evening without resorting to physical violence, and Eris privately agreed. 

He knew that they would have to return to the Cottage eventually. Nesta needed time to dress for the affair, and Eris wouldn’t show up looking anything less than impeccable. Not when he had Nesta on his arm. Nevertheless, they could spare a few hours before returning to Autumn, which is why Eris was more than happy Nesta suggested a visit to the Winter Court. 

Because he knew _exactly_ where they should visit. 

  
  
  


~

  
  


If Eris was to pick a favourite spot outside of Autumn, it would be Calais. It was one of the smaller cities in the Winter Court. More of a town, really. But its smaller stature had in no way limited the degree of details in the city’s stunning architecture. A towering palace rose up in the center of the city, embellished and evergreen boughs and garland. The outlying town was a mix of homes and businesses, constructed out of gleaming white stones and topped with steeply-pitched roofs.

The southernmost Courts may have recently ushered in springtime weather, but winter still held Calais in her freezing grip. All buildings and surrounding coniferous trees were blanketed under a thick layer of fluffy white snow. Residents weren’t impeded by the weather, their way through snow-laden streets on sleds pulled by reindeer. 

It was picturesque and, dare he say, romantic. 

Yet the city’s unimaginable beauty wasn’t the primary reason Eris came to favour Calais. 

Years ago, when Nesta first began testing out her powers under his tutelage, Calais was the first location they explored together. Or more specifically; the hot springs caverns, located just a few miles outside of the city, was the first location they visited.

The cave system was extensive, likely stretching back for miles into the mountain range. They’d gone back repeatedly over the years and still hadn’t managed to find it’s endpoint. Despite its vast size, they had never run into another soul during their explorations. The hot springs may exist wholly in another High Lord’s territory, but Eris had come to think of the caverns as a secret hideaway, belonging solely to them.

And whenever they visited Calais, it was always by way of the caverns. 

The first thing he always noted were the rich minerals scenting the air; strong, but not unpleasant. That particular area of the cave was lit by sunlight streaming down through a fracture in the rocky ceiling, illuminating clear, turquoise water, and Eris conjured faelights to brighten the outlying area. 

Nesta wasn’t even familiar with the _concept_ of hot springs before that day, so they spent that first afternoon exploring the caves and floating in its warm, crystal clear water. They didn’t even venture out of the cave system until their second or third visit when Nesta sternly reminded him that she should commit _some_ of their expedition towards study. 

And that was when he had the pleasant realization that entering a frozen environment from a humid climate gave Eris a fully acceptable, _perfectly reasonable_ excuse to touch his wife. After all, what kind of male would Eris be if he sent Nesta into a freezing realm soaked through? As his mother often said: there was no need to risk pneumonia.

So they stripped off their soaked swimming costumes - his back turned for propriety's sake, of course - and changed into the warm set of clothing Eris carried within his waterproof rucksack. One they were dressed and ready to face the cold, Eris had called forth his magic and ran his fingers through Nesta’s hair. 

Nesta didn’t naturally possess protection against fire - a skill inherent to nearly all Autumn-born fae - so he kept his magic gently simmering within his skin. It was just warm enough to assist in drying her hair, thereby warding off hypothermia. 

By all rights, it _should_ have been an awkward encounter. Eris had purposely not touched her since their forced vows of marriage to demonstrate a healthy respect for boundaries, and Nesta would only hold him for as long as necessary when shifting through the water. Yet while it should have been awkward, the experience was anything _but._ She had leaned into him, closing her eyes and utterly relaxing into his gentle ministrations, and Eris took the opportunity to study the stranger who had been made his wife. 

She was beautiful, of course, possessing the regal aloofness that had been damn-near required to survive life at Beron’s court. But it was only in that first soft moment that he began to see the glimmering vulnerability within her. The same kind of vulnerability that Eris also took great efforts to conceal. 

_That was the moment we started to like each other._ Eris had realized, all those years ago. _That was the moment we became friends._

They seldom spoke during those times. Nesta’s eyes would flutter close, and Eris worked quietly, afraid of breaking the spell. He had never seen Nesta as content as she was during those quiet times. 

Afterwards, as they trekked down towards their chosen destination, Nesta would begin to open up about herself. First about her fears and nightmares, then eventually about the events leading up to her banishment from the Night Court. She was hesitant about sharing her experiences at first, possibly fearful Eris would view her in a negative light. Those worries were baseless. Eris was well-acquainted with self-contempt. 

In that, they were evenly matched. 

In return, Eris opened up about his journey. About his anguish and regrets. He never outright spoke of the physical abuse suffered at the hands of his father, but she saw the scars that marred his back. He’d caught Nesta staring at them one afternoon after he heedlessly pulled off his sodden shirt during some point of their exploration. He didn’t offer an explanation, and Nesta didn’t ask. 

But his wife was a smart female, and Nesta _had_ experienced life under Beron. It may have only lasted a few short minutes, but it was more than enough for her to accurately gauge just how pleasant life had been under his father’s thumb. Eris was open about the struggles he faced as Beron’s oldest son, about how he regretted not fighting the mould his father forced him into. About how he feared he was doomed to repeat his father’s footsteps. Nesta would quietly listen, and never once reeled back in horror or judgement or despair. She also refrained from offering useless placations or vague rationalization for his behaviour, and for that he was grateful. 

But sometimes Nesta would reach out and clasp his hand, squeezing it in a show of solidarity. 

It was around that time Eris realized his feelings for his wife had grown beyond simple friendship. 

And _Cauldron boil him,_ but didn’t _that_ make him feel like a heel. 

Nesta Archeron was a twenty-four-year-old _traumatized_ female. She was without support, on the run from her family, and was being actively pursued by multiple witches. This was neither the time nor place for romance. It would be imprudent, unethical, and downright cruel to act out on his fledgling feelings. So he pushed them down and ignored them, hoping they would go away on their own. 

That ended up being a spectacular failure, of course. But it was the thought that counted. 

The problem was this; Nesta needed to focus on her recovery, preferably without Eris mooning over her. This was about his wife’s healing journey - his amorous inclinations could wait. So what was the best way to achieve this? Giving her space was probably a good start. Separation would also help. 

A plan came together easily enough. At his mother’s urging, he reached out to Helion Spell-Cleaver to propose setting up a clandestine alliance. Helion was intrigued and instantly agreed once learning the identity of his prospective student. 

Nesta was the only person to object to the arrangement. She was confused at first, perhaps a little weary that Eris had grown tired of her company. Her suspicion was so hopelessly, overwhelmingly _wrong_ that he wanted to laugh. 

_Mother help him_ , he _wanted_ to be closer to her. Close in the way that a husband was with his wife, yet Eris was painstakingly aware that their relationship was much too complicated for such things. Her entire role within Autumn had been thrust upon her. Nesta was not his wife by choice. It would be wrong to admit his burgeoning feelings towards Nesta. It would be selfish. Eris couldn’t impose her feelings upon her. Not when she still woke up screaming from her nightmares. Not when she had no other place to call home. 

Not until Nesta could freely, unilaterally choose Eris as well. 

But he couldn’t very well explain all of _that_ to Nesta, so he stiffened his shoulders and coolly remarked that he couldn’t fully commit to training Nesta, not when he had the business of running his own court to attend to. Nesta appeared crestfallen by his harsh words but nodded her head in acceptance, and Eris tried to ignore the apparent hurt in her eyes. 

It wasn’t all bad, though. Helion ended up being a good match for Nesta. He was able to guide and nurture her in a way that Eris could not, and he was grateful to see her make solid connections outside of Autumn. The High Lord of Day had eventually offered Nesta her own personal refuge within his private estate. A place where she could safely come and go, all at her own pleasure. Eris was secretly forlorn to learn of Helion’s offer but maintained a stiff upper lip, fearful of unwittingly influencing her to decline the proposal.

Nesta was starting to build a life for herself outside of Autumn, he couldn’t be the male standing in the way of all that. 

Eris truly, _truly_ didn’t expect to see her again. 

At least, not like before. Certainly not the same frequency. Things had changed. She had opportunities and a home outside of Autumn now. Nesta no longer needed him, and apart from Beron’s untested and ignored bargain, she had no ties to Autumn. 

So his surprise was genuine when Nesta ambled into the cottage a few days later, asking if he felt up for to a trip to the hot springs. His relief was damn near indescribable. Eris just stared at her, slack-jawed and disbelieving. She had merely laughed at his expression - the sound was music to his ears - and declared that Eris wasn’t able to rid himself of her presence that easily. 

That was the moment Eris knew that his relationship with Nesta stood on a solid foundation. They may have been thrust together by circumstances beyond their control, but Nesta actively chose to stay in his life. His heart swelled with happiness. 

And from that day on; Eris developed a deeper appreciation for their visits to Calais, by way of the hot springs. 

  
  
  


~

  
  
“Eris, did you hear me?”

Eris blinked, his attention returning to the bundled up female before him. Nesta was staring at him, head tilted as she studied his distracted countenance. He had drifted off, apparently lost in his thoughts, and felt his cheeks heat up in chagrin.

“Sorry, sorry. I was a little preoccupied” He offered with an embarrassed grin. “Can you repeat the question?”

Nesta arched a brow at him but, thankfully, dropped the matter. She broke away from their hiding place and returned to their leisurely stroll, snagging Eris’ arm and pulling him along with her. He bit back a smile and followed along, allowing his small wife to lead the way.

“I asked if you wanted to go home.” Nesta reminded him, those stunning blue-grey eyes sliding up to meet his gaze. “Dinner is still a few hours away, but I need time to dress and your mother will probably kill us if we spend the entire day away from Autumn.”

He huffed a laugh, silently agreeing. Lady Nayirah was definitely going to be angry with them for abandoning their duties as host and foisting the responsibilities back onto his mother’s shoulders. Still, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel too guilty, Nayirah had volunteered herself for the role.

“We probably should head back soon, but we don’t have to rush back right now.” He admitted, throwing an arm over her shoulder where they walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. 

They didn’t have time to lounge around the hot springs, but they could delay their return for a little while longer if he winnowed them back home instead. Eris certainly wasn’t in a hurry to return to the Cottage to spend an evening with the Inner Circle.

Rhysand could be managed easily enough. They were in _his_ court, after all, and the two males were evenly matched. Eris may have only been a High Lord for the past three years, but he’d been playing the game long before that. Worst-case scenario? Rhysand would act like an unbearable ass and Eris would need to eject him from his home, but he doubted it would ever come down to that.

No, Eris was more concerned about the High Lady of Night and that Illyrian Bastard. While Eris could handle Feyre on the political side of things, his hands were tied when it came to the _sisterly_ entanglement. He couldn’t very well insert himself into the family drama between Nesta and Feyre, and this confrontation was a long time coming. The sisters had to work out their differences among themselves. Eris would support his wife, of course, but knew his place in that particular argument. 

The Bastard was a whole _different_ issue. Eris was uncomfortable about how thoroughly the Illyrian had entwined himself into Nesta’s life. At first, Eris assumed the Bastard was only acting as the Night Court’s errand boy, that he was simply chasing after Nesta on his High Lady’s orders. It was still a cause for concern, so Eris ordered his spies to keep a close eye on the Illyrian’s movements. 

Needless to say, his concerns multiplied after learning the Bastard had stepped away from official duties to hunt Nesta full time. Eris didn’t like what it implied. Why would the Illyrian give up a high ranking position to track down one delinquent female? Eris was missing a piece of the puzzle, could no longer convince himself it was simply a meaningless act. It spoke to a personal connection between the Bastard and his wife _._ Whatever it may be, Eris didn’t like it then.

And he certainly didn’t like it now. Not when all parties were being forced into close quarters. 

For three long years, Eris pushed down his feelings for Nesta by convincing himself it wasn’t the right time to pursue her. Convinced himself a romantic entanglement was the last thing she needed. But now the Bastard was sniffing around, and Eris couldn't quite shake off the impression that things were about to be brought to a head. 

So Eris drew Nesta into his side, holding her a little tighter than was strictly necessary. 

“We don’t need to rush back quite yet.” He said again, echoing his previous sentiments. Eris wanted to stretch out this moment. Wanted to spend a few more moments walking through the snow, with Nesta safely tucked away at his side. “We still have a little more time together.”

And Eris hoped against hope that his last statement wouldn’t be proven false. 

  
  
  


~~~~~~

**Cassian**

  
  
  
_The home of Eris fucking Vanserra_

_The Autumn Court_

  
  


“Cass, you need to take it down a notch. You look like you’re about ready to murder somebody.” Feyre muttered as she brushed a near-imperceptible piece of fluff off of his suit jacket. 

Cassian rolled his eyes but kept his comments to himself. 

This dinner was the _last_ fucking place that he wanted to be. His High Lady should count herself lucky that he’d even bothered to show up. Did Feyre believe that he would feel grateful to be included? That Cassian was happy to be shoved into an elegant dining room to break bread with Eris _fucking_ Vanserra? That he should focus on which fork was appropriate for each dish instead of, say, jamming said-fork into Eris _fucking_ Vanserra’s neck?

No, he _wasn’t_ happy. And thank you for asking. 

“You _do_ look handsome, though,” Elain added as she swept in beside her sister, running a critical eye over his attire. 

His brothers had winnowed back home at some point, grabbing everyone a formal change of clothing for this evening's event. Cassian didn’t even realize that Vanserra had invited them to dinner. At least, he didn’t until Rhysand walked into his bedroom and dropped a freshly pressed suit on Cassian’s lap.

“Dinner tonight. Nine o’clock sharp. You’re coming.” Was all Rhys said before turning on a heel and heading back outside. 

Cassian, still nursing his hangover, looked down at the clothes on his lap, and blinked. 

_Wait, what?_

And then things clicked into place. Dinner _plus_ formal clothes meant they weren’t sharing a casual meal. Which meant…

“No, I’m fucking _not._ ” Cassian called out to his brother’s back.

“Yes, you fucking _are._ ” Rhys tossed over his shoulder as he turned the corner and disappeared from view. 

“No. No, I’m not.” Cassian whispered defiantly to the empty room. 

And he meant every word. Truly, he did. Dinner with Eris _fucking_ Vanserra was the last thing he wanted to do. In fact, Cassian was fully prepared to fly his ass back to Velaris before that happened, High Lord’s orders be damned. 

But there was no way in hell Cassian was leaving before hashing things out with Nesta. 

Not after Elain planted that little seed of doubt in his mind. He simply couldn’t leave before sitting Nesta down and giving her one last chance to explain the past three years. 

Except Nesta was nowhere to be found. Cassian had scoured the estate in an attempt to track down his wayward mate but, as per tradition, Nesta had once again gone to ground. Vanserra had spent the entire visit avoiding them, so his absence wasn’t exactly a shock, but Cassian assumed Nesta would be easier to find. Cassian eventually came across Feyre and the asshole's mother taking a leisurely stroll through the garden. He was about to slink back the way he came when Feyre spotted him lurking in the shadows. 

“Cassian!” His High Lady beckoned in a voice way too shrill to someone who’d tossed back two bottles of whiskey mere hours before. “Come! Walk with us! Lady Nayirah is showing us the gardens.”

To be honest Cassian was not, in fact, interested in spending time with the mother of Eris _fucking_ Vanserra. But Feyre had already drawn attention to his presences and, short of running away, there was little to be done about it. He was getting sloppy, and a walk through the gardens could be considered penance for that little slip-up.

“I would be delighted to join you.” Cassian drawled, gracing the ladies with a look that was, he hoped, more grin than a grimace.

He probably should have taken Elain’s earlier advice to bathe, judging by the way Feyre wrinkled her nose when he reached their side. Still, Cassian tried to lay on the charm, scent notwithstanding. After all, Lady Nayirah might know where his mislaid mate was. The sooner he could track down Nesta, the sooner he could get to the bottom of things. 

But he should probably make time for a bath, first. 

Lady Nayirah, meanwhile, was kind enough to pretend like Cassian didn’t smell like some lush three days into a bender.

“Do you enjoy the gardens, Lord Cassian?” Asked Nayirah as they meandered down the pathway. 

“It’s just Cassian,” said Cassian, “and I’m not one for pretty flowers. Although truth be told, your daughter-in-law did help me appreciate the more understated benefits that a garden can possess.”

And apparently, Cassian wasn't nearly as slick as he thought he was, considering the way Feyre began fervently choking on nothing more than air. 

“Oh, my dear! Are you okay?” Exclaimed Lady Nayirah, helpfully patting Feyre on the back. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Feyre gasped, sending Cassian a death-glare when Nayirah wasn’t looking. “My drink just went down the wrong pipe.”

“Ahh, yes. I hate when that happens.” Lady Nayirah agreed sensibly.

She was also polite enough to refrain from pointing out that Feyre wasn’t carrying a drink. Cassian grinned, decided that he just might like the older female, even if she did give birth to Eris _fucking_ Vanserra. 

But Cassian was still a little hungover, and now was not the time for subtlety. 

“Do you know where Nesta is?” Cassian asked bluntly. Feyre gave him the side-eye, so he quickly added. “And Eris, too. Of course. Do you happen to know where I can find them?”

It was Nayirah’s turn to grimace.

“I’m afraid they ran off earlier today.” She muttered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re out on Court business, or so I’m told.” 

Feyre cocked her head. 

“Will they be home in time for dinner?” She asked. 

“They will most definitely be back.” Muttered Lady Nayirah, and the words _“or else”_ were implied by her tone. 

Cassian grinned. He _definitely_ liked Lady Nayirah. 

_It's too bad her son is a total twat, but nobody is perfect,_ Cassian mulled. 

They continued for a few more moments; the ladies happily chatting away while Cassian trailed slightly behind until a red-faced servant showed up and began carrying on about some small crisis with the larder. Their hostess sent the cook back to the kitchen, promising to meet him there shortly. Lady Nayirah then turned to Feyre and apologized for having to cut their visit short. 

Feyre gave Nayirah a dazzling smile, the picture of goodness and light, right up until the moment their hostess disappeared from view. Once they were alone, Feyre whirled on Cassian and jabbed him in the chest with way more force than was necessary.

“Ow!” Cassian complained, rubbing at the spot to ward off a bruise. “Don’t get so worked up. It’s not good for the baby.”

“ _You’re_ not good for the baby.” Feyre hissed. “I don’t know what that little snide remark was about, but it wasn’t funny. _Oh, your daughter-in-law showed me a great time in the garden._ Really, Cassian? _Really_? Are you trying to single-handedly destroy diplomatic ties with Autumn?”

“First of all, I said Nesta made me appreciate the _benefits_ of a garden. That’s a completely different thing.” He protested. 

Feyre turned an alarming shade of red at his words, making Cassian reconsider his whole stance on defending that particular statement. 

“And, pray tell, exactly how did my sister help you _appreciate_ the unspoken benefits of a garden?” Feyre asked in a too-calm voice. 

Cassian blinked, sensing a trap. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

Feyre closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache.

“Can you please, _please_ try to stay out of trouble for the remainder of the day?”

Cassian gave her a grin. “For you, anything.”

So Cassian escaped back to his room, washing away the worst of the hangover while simultaneously coming up with a plan to get Nesta alone. He never really made it farther than simply plucking her up and flying away, so it was probably a good thing that Nesta didn’t return to the estate before dinner. 

The downside, however, meant that he was now stuffed into a formal evening suit while the Inner Circle impatiently waited for their hosts to arrive. To make matters worse: the sisters had taken it upon themselves to fuss over Cassian while his brothers watched from the sidelines, not bothering to hide their amusement. 

“You look quite dashing with your hair down,” Feyre announced. 

“ _Quite_ dashing.” Rhys piped up from the corner, where he and Az were nursing a glass of whiskey. 

“And you cut a fine figure in that suit.” Added Elain as she pointedly ignored the males at her back. 

“ _Quite_ the fine figure.” Snickered Az,and Cassian shot his brothers a vulgar gesture.

“You do look handsome, though,” Elain murmured, rising on her toes to brush a kiss along his jawline. 

“Thank you, El. If you ever smarten up and finally decide to leave my brother, I’ll be more than happy to take you in.” He told her, beaming widely when Az sent him a glare. 

The impending argument was cut short when the doors to the sitting room swung open, announcing the arrival of their hosts. His stomach tightened at the prospect of finally facing Nesta, especially in front of so many witnesses. He was a fool for letting his temper get the better of him, for letting their last words be spoken in anger. Ideally, he would make amends in private, but Cassian would take what he could get. 

Except it was Lady Nayirah, and Lady Nayirah alone, who entered the sitting room. She breezed into the room, a vision in copper-coloured silks.

“I do apologize for the wait” The elder Vanserra announced, her voice like honey. “Eris and Nesta will be here momentarily. Can I offer anyone a digestif while we wait?” 

The offer was met with a chorus of polite refusals, and Lady Nayirah wandered over to chat with the sisters. Cassian took the opportunity to speak with his brothers. 

“Why hello there, handsome.” Drawled Rhys, failing to hide his smirk behind his tumbler. 

“I always suspected that I was the pretty one, and I’m glad the ladies are starting to recognize that fact.” Cassian quipped, snagging an empty glass from the sideboard and pouring himself a drink from one of the multiple crystal decanters. “Are you ready to face down Vanserra?”

Rhysand shifted in his seat, good humour fleeing as he cast a quick glance towards Nayirah to confirm the ladies were out of earshot. 

“I’m just glad the slippery little bastard wasn’t able to wiggle out of dinner. I’ll take the opportunity to pin him down wherever I can find it.” Rhys growled. “I’m not sure what his game is, but there is no upside to delaying things.”

“I’m not sure that Eris _is_ playing a game.” Az countered softly.

“Have you heard anything new? Was Elain able to tell you more about Vanserra?” Cassian asked, sobering from his earlier flippancy. 

“Not really,” Az admitted, his shadows darkening as they swirled around him. “Elain seems to think Eris is genuinely coming from a place of goodwill when it comes to Nesta, but the geas is forbidding her from saying more.”

“And even if he has goodwill for Nesta, that doesn't necessarily translate to goodwill for _us_ ,” Cassian concluded. 

“We’ll just have to convince Eris that both those things are one in the same,” Rhys muttered darkly, taking a long pull from his drink. 

Their conversation was brought to a halt when the doors to the sitting room once again swept open, and the High Lord of Autumn entered the room. The ginger prick was dressed in the usual High Lord finery. A detached part of Cassian’s brain noted that Vanserra’s long, red-gold hair had been tied back at the nape of his neck, rather than loose in his customary style, but then any further details escaped him the moment Nesta Archeron entered the room.

She was dressed in a shimmering gold evening gown, the colouring complementing the golden highlights in her hair. The gown itself was cut off the shoulders with a tantalizing low décolletage. Nesta wore no jewellery, but her hair had been swept up in an intricate up-do and adorned with shimmering combs. She looked… beautiful, yes but that wasn’t the right word. Simply calling Nesta beautiful would be an injustice. She was so much more than that. Nesta looked like a goddess sent forth from the heavens. 

She was pale, though. Much too pale for someone newly recovered from such a grievous injury, and Cassian took a concerned step towards her without thinking. As if Cassian was the only one here concerned about her well-being. As if she wasn’t standing at her _husband’_ s side. His movement must have caught Nesta’s attention, as her gaze flicked over towards him, and their locked eyes for the first time since their argument. 

Cassian froze, spellbound under that blue-grey gaze, and the rest of the room faded away. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions that he needed to ask. But now? Right now? He could happily stand there forever, gazing into the eyes of the female he loved.

Nesta’s throat bobbed, and he briefly wondered if she had read his thoughts. 

And then Eris _fucking_ Vanserra cleared his throat, shattering the illusion. Nesta blinked, then tilted her head to gaze up at the male at her side. 

“I would like to thank you all for coming here as a show of support to my wife, Nesta,” Eris began, and Cassian’s teeth were set on edge by that grating aristocratic accent.

His hand clenched into a fist as pushed down the anger that Vanserra consistently brought out in him. Cassian fought to get a handle on his rage, to wrestle his emotions into some semblance of control. He knew this dinner - this _alliance_ \- was too important to be thrown away on a whim, but all he could focus on was the fact that Eris _fucking_ Venserra was standing much too close to his mate.

“We are honoured by your presence,” Vanserra continued, blissfully ignorant of the emotions he’d ignited within the Illyrian, “and as a show of gratitude, Nesta and I are privileged to receive you for dinner tonight.”

Vanserra waved a solitary hand, and an untouched set of double doors swung open, revealing an ostentatiously decorated dining room. The walls were covered in red damask paper and accented in gilded crown moulding. Several large chandeliers hung from the arched ceiling, but the crowning glory had to be the immaculately decorated dining room table. 

The table had been set for eight guests; three place settings ran the length of the table, the remaining two were set up at opposing ends. Twin mammoth, autumn-themed arrangements rested on either end of the table, placed about a third of the way in. The flowers towered skyward, ensuring that no one’s vision was obscured by the monstrous bouquet. 

It was spectacularly, _overbearingly_ grandiose. 

Cassian _hated_ it. Hated how everything about the room oozed gentility. Hated how it thoroughly embodied the Autumn Court, paying homage to its High Lord. And Cassian especially hated how much Nesta looked right at home here.

So he stood back, just on the outside of the dining room, observing the other couples as they strolled inside. He noted Feyre and Elain oohing and aahing over the massive flower arrangements, but then he only had eyes for Nesta. He tracked her progress as she slowly circled the room, her arm clutching the ginger prick’s arm like it was a lifeline. 

Nesta did not once glance in his direction, but Cassian had no doubt she was fully aware of his presence. 

“Is everything to your liking, Lord Cassian?” 

It took all of his training not to react, to not jump at the sudden voice in his ear. Instead, Cassian pasted on a pleasant expression and turned to find Lady Nayirah. The older female was studying his face with all-too clever eyes. 

“It’s just Cassian,” he reminded her, “I bear no official titles.”

“Is that that a fact?” Lady Nayirah muttered in an unconvinced tone, eyes never wavering as she met his gaze straight on. “Silly me. I’d always presumed it was you they referred to when they spoke of the Lord of Bloodshed.”

Cassian frowned, then refocused on the elder Vanserra with a more assessing gaze. He’d never before paid Nayirah any heed on the few occasions their paths had crossed. He was always focused on Beron, or Eris, or one of the other shitbag sons. It became clear that by dismissing Nayirah, he’d overlooked who the true apex predator was all along. 

“Some also call me the Prince of Bastards.” He told her bluntly. Nayirah had thrown down a gauntlet and he was eager to play her game. “But as you can see, I wear no crown.”

Perhaps Cassian’s language wasn’t befitting a female of her station, but Lady Nayirah was no wilting rose. She merely smiled at his proclamation, as if pleased to finally face off with an adversary of worth.

“A _Prince_ ? I did not realize we were in the company of royalty. I hope you do not find our meagre offers lacking, since this merely the home of a _High Lord._ ” Nayirah volleyed back, voice tinged with a layer of pretension that she’d previously kept under wraps. 

Cassian blinked, and before he could parry her subtle slight, she switched up her attack and advanced on an entirely different front. 

“I see that you’ve been admiring my daughter-in-law’s beauty. My son is a lucky male, being able to call Nesta his wife. I’m sure others are envious of his position. Don’t you agree?” She asked, far too innocently.

Cassian fought to keep his expression neutral, to not react to the lady’s direct hit. She may not be a battle-trained combatant, but Nayirah was skilled in a different type of warfare. He would have admired the lady if he wasn’t so desperately trying to stay ahead of her onslaught. 

“Yes, Eris is a lucky male. I’m eager to learn all the details of their courtship.” And because Cassian truly was a bastard on multiple levels, he added. “I’m surprised Nesta decided to keep them from me. She didn’t mention it once during all the time we spent together, in days leading up to Helion’s attack.” He finished, and his smile was all teeth. 

Nayirah’s expression didn't even waver. Quite the opposite; her lips curled up into a deeper smile, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“My daughter-in-law was never really built to stay in one location for too long. If denied her freedom she… _chafes._ And if Nesta is somewhere for too long, she loses her way and starts to make mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” He asked, unsure of where this conversation was leading. 

“Mistakes, such as seeing pinfolds where they do not exist. Even a home as luxurious as this may start to feel like a gilded cage to Nesta.” 

“She feels caged here?” He asked, voice deepening with a hint of a threat, but Nayirah merely laughed.

“No, _no,_ you misunderstand! Rest assured, my dear boy, Nesta is the _furthest_ thing from a prisoner. My son is benevolent enough to allow Nesta her freedom. They’re a team, you see, and have acted as such ever since their vows of matrimony.”

“Then speak plainly,” Cassian demanded, “what _are_ you trying to say?”

Lady Nayirah gave him a sardonic smile as she picked up her skirts and stepped into the dining room. She paused at the last moment, leaning in so closely that her skirts skimmed over his body.

“What I’ve been trying to explain, Prince of Bastards, is even though Nesta may become distracted by the occasional flight of fancy, she _always_ returns home to Autumn.” 

Nayirah’s gaze drifted over to her son, watching as Eris escorted Nesta around the room. 

“So the next time you look at Nesta and feel like reaching above your station,” Nayirah continued on, “just remember that, at the end of the day, my daughter-in-law will _always_ make the choice to return home.”

And then Lady Nayirah sashayed into the dining room, not bothering to spare Cassian a final glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A _huge_ should out to AbsentMinds. There is a very good chance this whole chapter would be delayed yet another week if it wasn't for her unceasing efforts to beta this monster of a chapter! 
> 
> Keen eye readers may have noticed that I reworked the chapter titles, which was more due to a flow-issue than anything. 
> 
> Anyone who is avoiding ACOSF spoilers may wish to avoid _reading_ the comments. This will not be a spoiler free zone! (If you wish to comment on this chapter, I will respond and not bring up the novel unless prompted) 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read. (✿◠‿◠)


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